The Difference Between Being Sad and Feeling Sad
Grief, pain, growth, and liberation
My eighteen-year-old cousin, Chris, shot himself in the head in a game of Russian Roulette late one morning amidst getting high.
I gather he was trying to impress some girls, but made the fatal mistake of taking it too far.
His two fellow accomplices who helped him sell steroids and steal gym equipment around town were also present.
A somewhat dubious mystery remains to this day if he was shot by these two guys or he actually played Russian Roulette.
The two men left the state that day and were never seen again.
Unbeknownst to anyone, the authorities exhumed his body after his funeral several weeks later in search of evidence for foul play.
I do not know if the formaldehyde disengrated forensic evidence or if no one cared, but the police closed the case. And we, his family, were left with no answers.
Chris was taken to the Pomona Hospital and he was placed on life support.
When my brother and I arrived, we visited him separately. He was our dearest loved one and he was mortally injured. Then, our estranged mother showed up and instantly an awful situation became worst.
