The funeral was a somber, odd occassion where family who did not even know Ray arrived to support sis, and my brothers, my lil one and I all stuck together. His adopted sisters and mother were there and we acknowledged one another; however, we did not talk very much at all. Everything was highly stressful.
We signed his book with my maiden name, the siblings foregoing their adopted names. Old friends of my brother, from when he lived in Jersey, came to say goodbye, all talking about what a good guy he was, such a sweetie. I was self contained, being there for my brothers and sis while trying to feel nothing – only at the very end of the funeral did my lil one walk up to the coffin and help me say goodbye – she’s always been very strong.
When I left the funeral home I could see there was a commotion stirring with the adopted family and sis, but we just had her leave with us and cut it short. We went for lunch at iHop, and I could see clearly there was a serious strain between sis and my brothers. At one point J___ got up to go to the bathroom, and sis followed. When they came back the silence between them was chilling. After paying the bill we left with my brothers saying they wanted to go back to J—’s, would I like to go. I said I thought someone should stay with sis so I passed.
That night we talked about the end. Sis gave me her story about what happened. It went like this:
She and bro had bought some coke and were going to party in his room – however, when she showed up after work he had done it all without her. Since it was her money, and he stole from her, she and he fought. She left, wouldn’t take his calls and went to a school function for her son turning her cell phone off. The next day she decided not to pick him up for work, which she had always done, because she was still mad. Instead, she waited until lunch to go to his place and check up on him. When she got there she let herself in and saw him hanging from the bar in his closet. On his chest were both his, and her ID’s, at his feet were all of his poetry written over his lifetime. After the police removed the body she and my brother J— went to gather up some of his belongings when J___ apparently decided he didn’t want to help her any more. That’s when she called me.
So that was the story I originally got – until I left Jersey and was home in Brooklyn. That’s when it started to trickle out.
My brother J— called me telling me that he and Rich could not be around her because it was her fault he was dead. Apparently they had a physical, and emotion relationship. My brother didn’t want to help her with his room any more when as they were cleaning, and found a stash of porn, sis slipped with “he was the best lover I ever had.” He told me that he had to walk away from her at iHop because she knew he had coke and wanted him to break it out in the bathroom, because the adopted family wanted to go after her for sleeping with him and then letting him die, because he didn’t want it to come out that way to me.
This physical relationship between Ray and sis had apparantly started soon after I last saw them. For a time he was living in the house with her, her husband and her son. But, as physical became emotional it became apparent he needed out of their home. They would spend pretty much every evening drinking, snorting and messing around. J— said it had become so intense that when he would be around there would be jealousy issues with his own brother over their sister – which creeped him out. Sis was using him as a tool against Ray – and Ray began resenting J— over it. It was sick.
Sis had went so far as to call Rich in Minnesota and ask him if, since they had different last names, he thought they could pull off a marriage. Rich claimed he tried talking sense into her. It was partially over this that bro made a trip from Minnesota to Jersey to visit – I just wasn’t on the guest list.
This was around the time when I had started calling, which, from what I’ve been told, is when Ray erupted in a frustration of declaring his love for Sis (while she wanted to keep it under cover in her own life). For this he grabbed a nail gun and held it to her head until she called and confessed her love to everyone. The police came (J— called on his cell while Rich tried to talk him down). Sis bailed him out the next day, and my brothers threw their hands up and backed off. They felt she was causing this – knowing my brother was a heavily medicated, bipolar and would go off the deep end sporadically. They didn’t want to be part when the shit really hit the fan. But, to protect me (of course) nobody thought to tell me this even when asked straight out.
Around February, the year my brother died, he had tried his first known attempt at suicide. It was over money – he felt sis was forsaking him for the comforts of her home life so he broke in and took away the comforts. He told sis straight out, that’s what you get for putting money first. Sis’ husband wanted him arrested but sis argued there was no proof, and claimed she would keep him away. For that, he took a bottle of his meds and tried to elude my sis in a chase around the neighborhood. Eventually, he was taken to the hospital and two days later, under her care, released. Sis felt it was just a cry for attention.
The night he committed suicide he had tried dozens of times to call sis on both her home, and her cell phone. All of the calls told her clearly his intention to die. He tried calling Rich and J— but was unable to get through to them at that hour of the night. I feel my brothers, accustomed to drunk, drug induced drama, chose to not answer. He called his adopted sister who offered to send him plane ticket money and let him move in with her. He called his adopted mother and had a final, work out the anger kind of call. He tried calling information for someone’s number, my sibs believe it was likely mine – I was unlisted.
I read the autopsy report, and it seems as though he died in the morning of the 8th. Apparently he tried to grab the rope from his neck, but couldn’t get out. I think of him struggling, quite possibly expecting sis to save him when she picked him up for work. I picture him all alone all that night full of anger, confusion, hatred. I wonder if a swift kick, un-adulterated love, and some patience could have saved him. I wonder if I’ll ever truly get peace with not having those answers.
After my brother’s death sis would call me, almost daily, since I never challenged her version of the truth. Her vile accusations, her finger pointing all meant to cast all of the blame on Ray. But I knew better – I saw her obsessive need to open memorial sites, to talkabout him daily, to seek psychics – I saw my brothers repulsed by her where it took months for them to be able to even speak to her. I could see this, but felt that I would accomplish nothing by throwing it in her face. I spoke to her even after she accused him of rape. I spoke to her even after hearing how she snorted coke off his box of ashes (to include him in). I spoke to her thinking this is likely what a purified, more enlightened Ray would want – if he could see things now.
A year after he died we all got together by the tree, with his ashes, each releasing a small amount to the wind. We decided, after prayer inspired, that this would be the most significant place to let him go. There was so much ash; however, that we did not let him go completely – I took him home with me hoping one day, again, to be inspired about where to free his body – to join his spirit.
Over the years I’ve learned not to speak too much about Ray – sis thinks I resent the time she spent with him. I used to ask for a copy of his poems – but I’ve long given up since she will never share them with anyone. They, like he, died in that town, because of all the wrong decisions.
So, that’s why I feel that despite the wrong way I might have done it, removing my siblings from my life is the best way I will ever feel free. The toxicity of the relationships on all sides have murdered any hope of our being a family ever again.
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