The Replay

Happy Veteran’s Day to all those who have served! As a black person in America, I can’t imagine serving for a country that doesn’t love me but hey..someone’s gotta do it. (yea, yea, I can be bitter, I know) My family is full of Veteran’s; my dad, grandfathers, many cousins, aunts and uncles have fought for us and I salute them all. The dedication and patriotism you must have to endure such a role in life is admirable and I wish those currently stationed around the world an abundance of good health and protection from any harm.

Back to the replay…It’s been over a year since the worst day of my life and I’m doing fairly well, most of the time. For the most part I’m ok and when the thoughts come, they’re happy. But then, there’s time where I am doing some mindless activity like driving or cooking and he pops in my head. I find myself replaying that tragic night over and over and once that first thought hits, I cant stop what comes next.

Word for word, I think about what I was doing when I got the call itself. A FaceTime call at 1am PST. It was 4am EST so I knew something was up when my sister’s name popped up on my screen. I replay the words my sister said to me through hysterical tears “Zeena, I’m sorry.” I think of how she struggled to get the words out. “Zeena, I’m sorry. It’s Dad’s…” she couldn’t say it so my brother took the phone. “You need to come home, dad’s dead.” he said. I stared at her and my brother on the phone. I could hear my mom in the background crying. I remember how I was silent. I couldn’t find the words. I remember trying to fix the problem in my head, trying to use my mind to reverse what I just heard. Trying to find a solution because that’s what I do. It was like grasping at straws. I can’t help but replay the whole scene. The gut wrenching scream I let out when their words finally sunk in. The feeling of all happiness and my breath leaving my body. The feeling of my heart being squeezed to nothing.

I can’t help but replay the next steps. I called my cousin, the only family I had with me in LA. I remember screaming at her that I need her. “I can’t do this, I can’t do this” I cried to her. She came to my aid to provide comfort and help me plan. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. How was I to book a flight, pack a bag and fly across the country when I literally could not function? I remember crying uncontrollably and wishing for a drug that would put me to sleep. I remember wanting to die too. I soon realized that this was not going to be the last time I felt this pain. That I still have another parent, 3 siblings, grandparents and friends that will die before me and that thought sent me into a frenzy. No one is safe from this feeling, I thought. This is just the beginning.

I replay the flight home. The longest, worse flight of my life. I cried the entire plane ride. I was hot and sweaty. My face and eyes were swollen. I replay the drive from EWR to Port Murray, NJ. The closer I got to the house, the harder it was. Driving up that long driveway knowing that at the end of it was a house full of sadness. At the end of that driveway was a void. My dad was gone. It took 2 people to get me out of the car and into the house. I replay not wanting to enter that house because once inside, I knew it would be real. I did not want to see my family in such pain. I wanted to die, right there in the car.

I replay the next few days of planning and rushing. Family all around trying to help. The services. I replay the shock I was in when I saw him in his casket. He looked so different. I replay the funeral director asking if I’d rather them close the casket because I didn’t like how he looked. I replay the look of shock and sadness on almost 300 people when I stood up to speak.

I used to hear this song in cartoons and laugh at the characters playing dead. Now to hear it at your father’s funeral is totally gut-wrenching.

This is usually where my mental movie ends. It’s like a sad TV show that I can’t just watch for 1 minute. Once the memory of that FaceTime call creeps into my head, my mind wants to play out the entire week of agony. Every. Fucking Time. I cry until the show ends and continue with my mindless task.

I am working on getting better at replaying the good times and the things I know my dad would tell me in the moment.

The sadness comes in waves but the pain is becoming easier to deal with. I am so grateful for the love and support of the people around me and hope I can be that for someone else when they go through a similar tragedy.

Here’s to reliving the good times, the strength of family and talking about your feelings.