Three Life Lessons Death Taught Me.

Authors Note: "If you're squeamish, or eating - skip the intro. Trust me."  

 Song worth listening to while reading this: Above and Below by The Bravery 

 It was a particularly warm day on this May evening. New York, notoriously known for its humidity in warmer months was in full effect that day. The type of humidity that would force sweat to spring forth with droplets from your forehead without warning, or steam up car windows, which was exactly what happened to my brothers soon - to - be mine Infiniti coupe. What was once his prized possession, because he earned it through hard work became his interim coffin that fateful evening, which then in turn became my life altering traumatic event, with the loss of a brother to boot. 

 The NYPD tow truck calmly backed into our driveway. Considering we lived in the suburbs of Staten Island, it was a mystery and a sight to behold NY's finest backing into a suburban driveway, delivering something at that. As the hydraulics lowered the car down to ground level, the operating officer stepped out of the cabin. He approached me rather solemnly, with his body language portraying that of a man who's fought a thousand wars. He handed me the key, and politely - quietly said to me "don't let your mother see inside the car." To which immediately I said "sure" but then also thought to myself "just what the fuck is inside?" Regardless I was going to find out, but what I didn't know was that it would change my life, my thought process, and how I live my life - virtually forever. 

 Finally off the flatbed and with the officer now miles away, it was now time for me to see what was inside the car. My prior notion was that the NYPD or whoever took the car in for investigation would clean up the car, but no. In all honesty it's my own fault for making that assumption, but hey - a man can dream, right? Tape masked the interior like a mummy. From the inside, mixed with the heat coming from the now afternoon sun - finally remixed with whatever liquid, or dare I say coagulated mixture that was still inside blocked my view from seeing the truth without sacrificing my sanity. However for the sake of my own brother I had too. 

 I pressed the key into the lock. It ominously opened, almost as if you can feel the spirit leave the car one last time. Or at least in that moment that's how it felt to me. Granted still living through the wake of losing someone I was speaking too less than 24 hours ago it was still hard to wrap my head around as per that was my brothers baby. In no world where he was alive, ironically enough would he ever let me open the drivers door without his supervision. At that time I was still learning how to drive and doing donuts in the parking lot with my friends PT Cruiser and called that "driving practice". Our teens were an interesting time to be alive, don't you think?  

 Also, don't let that driving part fool you, I do have my license. Fair and square. But I digress..

 I open the door and what I mistaken for spirit was actually liquid humidifying (bodily fluid) and putrid stench emitting from the first sign of living oxygen. This car was a literal death cabin - and I had front row tickets to the main event. Committing to the process - I removed the tape covering the seat and behold the largest pool of coagulated blood and brain matter I have ever seen. Never up until that point in my life did I ever think I'd find myself not only looking at, but cleaning up a murder seen - ever. My brothers assailant decided to be up close that evening, which is what would explain the size of the splatters. Remember that car scene in Pulp Fiction?

Yeah..

 I spent the entire afternoon cleaning up the entire interior, which at some point my hands were marinating in the mixture of blood and cleaning solution to which inevitably and timely might I add - I was introduced to my first mental breakdown. Fun. 

It's been ten years since. While I can say within I can make morbid jokes about it, from time this does play on my mental. 3 am cold sweats from the constant bouts with nightmare loops was such a habit after my brothers first passing, the habit solidified itself within my brain with my second brothers passing. Nightmares have lessened, but I now as apart of my routine just wake up at 3:30 am to start my day. My colleagues always wanted to know why or how I did wake up at that time, well - now you know. Nightmares make you do weird shit. 

What's the point of me writing this? Because through my pain and anguish - I found some gems. The kind of gems you don't find until your in your senior. Kids in college, your health potentially on the decline after years of slaving at the office and now you find yourself reviewing the true meaning of life and how it relates to every action you've ever taken. If I could had one of those Odin deals instead, I'd definitely opt for that and a golden eye patch, but life had other plans. For better or worse - I have some, not all of the gems. I'm not Thanos yet, but I believe the greatest teacher of all time - life, always has a way of teaching us, good or bad. So without further ado, here's 3 life lessons death taught me.  

1.The clocks ticking. - This isn't an ode to hustle culture. In fact quite the opposite. Yes, the proverbial clock IS ticking - however this doesn't correlate to hustling at all. Give whatever endeavor, career, "job" you ALL at that designated time. It doesn't make sense to work and play - because you do them both half assed. Who want's to have half assed fun? Doing what you have to do, to enjoy the things you want to do will not only save you time, it will give more of it back to you. Making time for loved ones, hobbies, projects, and most importantly YOURSELF is paramount & will replenish your soul. Life is one hell of a journey, you need both the physical and mental stamina for it. At the same time however, the clock - is ticking. What is that one dream or goal you're hesitant on committing to getting better at? Or what talent are you afraid to let the world see, albeit you know you were made to shine? I can tell you, the grand irony of man (general) is that we think we can push off things into tomorrow, when it never actually comes. By which I mean, to cast off the idea for another time because of fear is to inevitably rediscover when it may be too late. Don't live, or pass with regret. 

2.Whatever you can make right, make right. - I'm a sucker for accountability. But it wasn't always that way. Growing up I used to dodge my brother left and right jabs after stealing his snacks out the fridge and not owning up to it. What sounds silly quickly escalated into more looming problems over time where as a teen with mild responsibilities I couldn't find a consistent groove in my body. Constantly late for my odd jobs. Never handing in assignments on time and whenever confronted I put on this fake bravado as if I was unfazed by my blatant lack of self respect through lack of action. The last day me and my brother spoke, we settled our petty beef after I had turned a new leaf prior to my brother passing. After his passing, I've made it a mission to correct my wrongs whenever possible and be okay with admitting my defeats and faults, because we're all human. Own up to your wrongs, make right what needs to be made right whenever necessary. 

3. Enjoy the ride. - What does the best version of you or your life looks like? Once you begin to envision it - you can begin to craft your life as such. The trick is not panicking and enjoying the ride. That's really all life is. We all have a destination, an idea, a vision of where or who we want to be, with the obvious corresponding actions needed to make in conjunction - however, the real joy comes from the journey itself, not solely from obtaining the prize. On another note how fun would life be if everything was so easily attainable? I do still think we live in.world that some things just feel better when you work for them, with that said - the journey is where it's at! This is where you get your battle scars, your story, and your potential to impact others come from. What if my brother(s) never passed away? Would this article ever come to life? Would you even be perusing my profile post reading this grammatical masterpiece if it weren't for my fallen brethren? (old english for added dramatics) I would say no. Life has a weird way of expressing itself and it needs us to do so. No two stories are EVER the same. Yours is entirely unique to you, and you alone. Therefore - tell your story. Own it! Because the ride, and what happens to you is really all you have when it's all over. Enjoy the ride, while you're still alive to see it. 

"Death is the mother of beauty. Only the perishable can be beautiful, which is why we are unmoved by artificial flowers." - Wallace Stevens

Thank you for reading. 

R. Serge Roy