I wrote this paper during my second semester of college. I planned on entering it into some writing contests but never got the opportunity to. Today being the anniversary of Jamie's death, I figured I would share this experience with everyone.
“The Effects of Family”
The pastor finished his sermon and gathered his belongings. As he cued me with his eyes, I knew this was going to be the most nerve-wracking moment of my life. My hands were sweating and tears were cascading from my eyelids. My heart began to beat rapidly and I could feel my legs shaking against the pew but as I stood up the fear I had felt a split second before, escaped me. I dried the water from my eyes and began to walk towards the front of the room. I stepped up onto the box that was provided for me because of my inability to see over the podium. When I looked out towards the six hundred pairs of eyes staring back at me, the words of remembrance flowed from my lips with ease. At the age of ten, I began my cousin’s eulogy with “My cousin, Jamie, was the best friend I ever had and I miss him very much.”
Three days before, on a scorching summer day in July of 2000, things couldn’t have been more different. I woke up bright and early because my mom had promised breakfast at Cracker Barrel that morning. I ordered satisfying French toast and I can still taste the cinnamon from it. My mom and I had an enjoyable day together while running some errands that were long overdue. By the time we were done with breakfast and finished the extended errands it was already three o'clock. When realizing how long we had been out we decided it was time to head home.
I am a curious person to this day but my curiosity at the age of ten was unbelievable. Every day when I walked into my house I always ran to the back room, the home of the answering machine. I was always eager to hear a message from a friend. But this time, there were a ridiculous number of messages on the machine. The number six blinked fiercely in red. I anxiously pressed the largest button on the machine that read "play". It was my Uncle Joe, the ex-husband of my mom's sister, with a worry in his voice. The first two messages were hang ups and the next three were followed with, “Please call me as SOON as you get this”. The final message was filled with nothing but tragedy. The painful words poured out of his voice, "Jamie died today around eight this morning, please call me back." Jamie was my cousin, my frantic uncle’s son, and my oblivious mother’s nephew. As I stood in that back room alone, completely flabbergasted, I replayed the last message over and over. After the longest five minutes of my life, my mom had come frantically running into the room questioning about who called and left six messages. With tears streaming from my eyes and my voice cracking uncontrollably I proceeded to tell her what happened. She was stunned and in almost as much shock as myself.
Later, after the initial shock of my cousin's passing started becoming a reality, the whole story was unveiled. My cousin had died from a drug overdose in New York City. Jamie was the last person our family would have expected to be involved in illegal substances. My cousin was going into his senior year at Johns Hopkins University and his major was in biomedical engineering. He had driven up to New York in search of a rave with friends. Ecstasy was later found in his system along with another drug that was often used by college students in attempt to counter-act the side effects of ecstasy. With further investigation, my family realized that my cousin had a heart attack on the dance floor in a popular New York Club. The club didn't feel the need to seek medical attention for Jamie because of the consequences the club owners would face if drug use was found in the rave. Instead, my cousin was dragged into a nearby room. His heart attack became fatal due to failure to seek proper medical attention after the irresponsible decision to use illegal drugs.
The pastor finished his sermon and gathered his belongings. As he cued me with his eyes, I knew this was going to be the most nerve-wracking moment of my life. My hands were sweating and tears were cascading from my eyelids. My heart began to beat rapidly and I could feel my legs shaking against the pew but as I stood up the fear I had felt a split second before, escaped me. I dried the water from my eyes and began to walk towards the front of the room. I stepped up onto the box that was provided for me because of my inability to see over the podium. When I looked out towards the six hundred pairs of eyes staring back at me, the words of remembrance flowed from my lips with ease. At the age of ten, I began my cousin’s eulogy with “My cousin, Jamie, was the best friend I ever had and I miss him very much.”
Three days before, on a scorching summer day in July of 2000, things couldn’t have been more different. I woke up bright and early because my mom had promised breakfast at Cracker Barrel that morning. I ordered satisfying French toast and I can still taste the cinnamon from it. My mom and I had an enjoyable day together while running some errands that were long overdue. By the time we were done with breakfast and finished the extended errands it was already three o'clock. When realizing how long we had been out we decided it was time to head home.
I am a curious person to this day but my curiosity at the age of ten was unbelievable. Every day when I walked into my house I always ran to the back room, the home of the answering machine. I was always eager to hear a message from a friend. But this time, there were a ridiculous number of messages on the machine. The number six blinked fiercely in red. I anxiously pressed the largest button on the machine that read "play". It was my Uncle Joe, the ex-husband of my mom's sister, with a worry in his voice. The first two messages were hang ups and the next three were followed with, “Please call me as SOON as you get this”. The final message was filled with nothing but tragedy. The painful words poured out of his voice, "Jamie died today around eight this morning, please call me back." Jamie was my cousin, my frantic uncle’s son, and my oblivious mother’s nephew. As I stood in that back room alone, completely flabbergasted, I replayed the last message over and over. After the longest five minutes of my life, my mom had come frantically running into the room questioning about who called and left six messages. With tears streaming from my eyes and my voice cracking uncontrollably I proceeded to tell her what happened. She was stunned and in almost as much shock as myself.
Later, after the initial shock of my cousin's passing started becoming a reality, the whole story was unveiled. My cousin had died from a drug overdose in New York City. Jamie was the last person our family would have expected to be involved in illegal substances. My cousin was going into his senior year at Johns Hopkins University and his major was in biomedical engineering. He had driven up to New York in search of a rave with friends. Ecstasy was later found in his system along with another drug that was often used by college students in attempt to counter-act the side effects of ecstasy. With further investigation, my family realized that my cousin had a heart attack on the dance floor in a popular New York Club. The club didn't feel the need to seek medical attention for Jamie because of the consequences the club owners would face if drug use was found in the rave. Instead, my cousin was dragged into a nearby room. His heart attack became fatal due to failure to seek proper medical attention after the irresponsible decision to use illegal drugs.
A few days after the horrible phone call, I flew up to Baltimore, Maryland with my family. As we arrived in Maryland, my family was busy with preparations for the viewing. This event is the most distinct in my memory. I remember glaring into the casket and looking at his chest because the deception of his heart beating. When I questioned my mother’s friend she told me, “Stefanie, your eyes are playing tricks on you.” After the wake, we had a huge Catholic funeral for my beloved cousin. There were at least five hundred in attendance. Emotions overwhelmed my body. Everywhere I turned in the large church, I was swarmed with a countless number of hugs from loved ones and even strangers. My endless sorrow earned me numerous apologies from many people. I soon realized that I wasn’t the only one drowning in sadness. As my family followed the large box out of the church, Jamie’s sister collapsed. She had been so emotionally drained that her body couldn’t handle the pain any longer. Her actions of exhaustion symbolized what our entire family was going through.
On the way back to Florida, I sat pondering out of the airplane window. I asked my mom if I could say something to all of Jamie’s friends at his funeral in Orlando. She broke a smile for the first time in a week as a response to my question. When my mom asked her sister, Jamie’s mother, on the drive home from the airport, I remember my aunt giving me the largest hug I had ever received from her. She whispered in my ear “I would love for you to speak at Jamie’s funeral and he would love to hear what you have to say from heaven.”
As my words continued to flow from my mouth, during my eulogy, I began to feel a sense of peace engulf me. I wasn’t able to cry but rather smile uncontrollably when recollecting memories spent with my cousin. “I will never forget the big bear hugs from Jamie and I will never forget the times we spent together in Aunt Linda’s pool,” I had told the people gathered before me. “Although Jamie was older than I was he always acted silly when around me. Everyone loves Jamie and I am glad to have such a big-hearted angel looking over me from heaven.” When I finally looked up from my wrinkled piece of notebook paper, I felt like a deer in headlights. I couldn’t believe the change in emotion that had overpowered the room. There wasn’t a single being in the room that didn’t have a smile beaming off their face. This is the moment I realized I had exceeded all of the silent expectations of the present crowd including my heartbroken family.
