His Crossing

Abstract

In memory, the family history, the events leading up to, and the aftermath looped in on themselves, like a spiroscope continuum. His suicide was the beginning, but also the middle, and the end. As one who would witness for the first time by recasting my memories, I realized that a death in the family influences all points on the continuum by causing a reconsideration of what was lived and what life is and what life will be. Variable, inconstant, death is always a loss. A suicide is loss that lives in hypotheticals. What if we…? What if he…? This isn’t only about me. It’s about what happens when a family cannot be. When what binds us is easily wrecked by illness, addiction, distance, and tragedy. A family who cannot translate meaning from one to another is not only incapable of communicating, it is divided. Like a railroad track that divides two communities, the broken language runs through and inhibits access, prohibits healing. Some members are left on one side, unable to make their way across to the other.