"Nothing Compares 2 U"

2016 has forced us to say goodbye to so many musical heroes.  Personally, I felt that David Bowie's and Prince's deaths were the most shocking because they were so unexpected.  I hadn't heard any mention of either man being sick.  Bowie had just released new music which I guess now was actually his way of saying goodbye to his fans.  Prince had performed on stage only a few weeks before his untimely passing.  I was not a huge fan of either singer but I respected the hell out of them for the creative unique musical geniuses that they were.  "China Girl"..."Under
Pressure"..."Fashion"..."Raspberry Beret"...."Kiss"..."Changes"....these were staples in my personal music rotation, and I'm so thankful for the joy they brought to my life. Hearing about the deaths of these artists definitely stirred up lots of feelings.  

One thing that tends to happen to me when death reaches out its bony tentacles and shakes up my life is that I shut down emotionally and hold people at arm's length.  Now, for an over-thinking introvert like myself, needing massive alone time isn't a huge change.  The difference is that instead of trying to deal with my issues on my own, I just deny that there are any problems. The BIG issues that I normally would wrestle with instead get swept under the rug until they bubble to the surface and explode in an ugly way.  My mortality seems to register in a way that makes me second guess my decisions and my daily life.  When I lost my 27 year old cousin to the drug addiction battle, I was a naive 23 year old who didn't know the horrible realities associated with addiction. Up to that point, I was always the "good girl" in the family, the smart one, the one who followed all the rules.  That changed drastically once I lost Nino.  Suddenly,  I was transformed into a cold and unfeeling bitch.  I became much more cynical and untrusting.  And it seemed like I was angry all the time.  All I knew was that my beloved cousin who I looked up to had, in my mind, "abandoned" his family which included two young children under the age of 3.  I was angry with him and did my best to "forgive" him for leaving all of us.  I also tried to be there for his young family as they began their new reality.  I selfishly judged my cousin for putting drugs over his family even as I myself was teetering on the edge of alcoholism. I couldn't see his pain (because he hid it so well)  so I assumed there wasn't any.   It was an awful time where I pretended to be okay with the loss in front of others while drinking heavily to drown out the mixed feelings of anger, sadness, and abandonment that  I felt towards the boy who was my childhood hero.  I'm ashamed to admit that whenever someone else mentioned how sorry they felt for my cousin and for his pain,  internally I scoffed and discounted his feelings.  It wasn't until I started to read about addiction and to learn about all the pressure my poor cousin was feeling that I turned a corner and began to see addiction for what it really is, a disease.  Unfortunately, this realization took a few years and in those few years I took many risks in my life which could have ended tragically.  By the time I turned 27, I could clearly see how young Nino was and how much pain he must have been in to engage in an activity that he knew could end his life.  His death taught me not to make rash judgements.  It also taught me the true meaning of the saying "There but for the grace of God go I".

While the learning curve following Nino's death was a long one, the lessons I learned from my father's death were much clearer earlier on.  When my father was diagnosed with leukemia, the same disease that had taken his sister, I was scared out of my mind.  My outgoing, vivacious, wise-cracking Zia Vittoria suffered for so many years from that awful disease.  It took the life out of her a little bit each day until she finally couldn't fight it any longer.  When I first heard the diagnosis, I prayed that he wouldn't have to follow the same path as his younger sister.  While I was quite shaken, I was determined not to let it show to my family.  At the time, I was unemployed and desperate to get another teaching position.  My depression and anxiety had caused me to quit my previous position, and my father's illness just added another layer of misery to my life.  But as the "new normal" of Dad's illness began to form, I realized that I could actually help him instead of just make the offer to help.  My older sister was working full time, and my younger sister was unable to help out so I stepped in and took him to his many doctor appointments which included trips to the hospital for blood transfusions.  Now, I know no one likes hospital visits but I really hated going to hospitals.   Knowing that my father needed these transfusions to keep him alive and seeing how much better he felt following the transfusions made me put on my big girl panties and suck it up.  After he spent his whole life providing for his family, this was the absolute least I could do for my father.  Sitting by his side as he received chemo treatments or blood transfusions, I actually felt grateful that I was unemployed.  If I had been teaching, I would not have been available to be there for him.  Maybe I would have tried to once again drown my grief in alcohol.  At the very least, I would have felt guilty for not being to help out more.  "Everything happens for a reason".  Another truth was revealed through the death of a loved one.

Even though all of the high profile deaths that have occurred thus far in 2016 have not touched me personally, they do make me reflective of how I'm living my life. Prince was only 10 years older than I am now.  Have I accomplished all the I have wanted? (ummm..no) Have I lived my life in a way of which I can be proud? (yes, I think so) But what I am sweeping under the rug? Maybe it's time to do some of those things that I've convinced myself I can't do. Maybe it's time to reach out instead of withdrawing from all the possibilities that are out there.  I can choose to put on my raspberry beret and face all of the changes that life has for me.