Steve the Cop called, and asked me to go with him to his high school girlfriends' family's house on Monday. It was a terrible thing: Jill's 45 year old sister Debbie had been killed in a car wreck in San Diego.
Debbie was born and raided in Miami, and moved to Colorado 12 years ago. One year ago, after her oldest (now 20) had gone to college, her family decided to give California a try. They were going back to Aspen this summer...
The house, 2 miles north of mine, was filled with family and friends, some of whom who hadn't seen each other in 30 years. The 20 year old was inconsolable, but I tried, telling her how I was 20 when my father died, and I felt for her. She told me she felt strangely outside of her body. I told her I spent my senior year of college that way, like I was looking down on myself going through life, rather than living it. Since then I've learned the term --dissociative syndrome --a defense mechanism against trauma. I've been thinking about that young woman a lot...
Debbie's mother, a very youthful 67, had a look on her face that seemed to say "What the F???!!!" She raised her 4 kids, was enjoying being a grandmother, and then this tragedy dropped out of the sky. She looked lost. I have, unfortunately, many clients whose children have died. They never truly find their way.
The funeral was today. I dodn't go, but Steve the Cop did, and called me tonight. Steve's been an officer 25 years, and has seen a lot. He's unbuckled corpses from cars, and been to bizarre homicide scenes. He said the funeral was the saddest event he's ever been to --hundreds of people all asking, in effect, What the F?????!!!
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