Dante wasn’t known for being emotional. He had experienced plenty of people in his family dying. It was very common growing up. But this was different. This was his brother.
He broke down. He hadn’t cried since he was 9 when he last gotten beaten by his parents. Something in him shut down that day and he decided that he was just not going to cry anymore. He cried every tear he had missed out on or held back this day.
His mother saw him cry and broke down. She didn’t have to say anything. Just by her look he knew what had happened. This wasn’t a case of his brother being hurt. His brother wasn’t missing. He was dead. He was not coming back. It hit him harder than anything he had ever felt in his life. Dante wanted to stop crying and ask questions. He couldn’t. His aunt began crying again. Dante actually felt bad. For some reason his tears made everyone else cry and all he wanted was to just stop them from crying.
“What happened?” he was finally able to ask.
“He had a heart attack” someone said.
Heart attack? Heart attack?! How in the fuck could he have had a goddamn heart attack?! Fat people have heart attacks. People who smoke for decades have heart attacks. People who don’t take of themselves have heart attacks. His brother who had lost weight, played sports, and didn’t smoke or drink did not have heart attacks! There must be something else going on he thought to himself. They don’t know what they’re talking about.
His other brother Jaron came in and they both cried. Dante had to get out of the hospital. Someone asked if he wanted to see the body. The body? He wasn’t even his brother anymore. He was this thing that had to be cut open, looked at, and then discarded. Dante hoped that this was just a stupid dream and that he would wake up in bed. He had just talked to his brother last week. Every Monday they would talk about wrestling and work. Just catch up. This was Tuesday and he had not called his the night before. Guilt started to build.
Outside his father had run out of cigarettes and wanted to head to the store. His brother joined them to the walk to the store. At first no one said a thing. Nothing had sunk in yet.
“This doesn’t feel real” his brother Jaron said.
“Yes, it does” Dante said. This was the most real thing he had ever felt in his life. After getting back Dante went and sat back down in the room with his mother and the woman and man he didn’t know.
It turns out that the man was a pastor that lived in the same apartment complex with Kevin. Apparently the pastor’s son found Kevin laying on the front lawn unconscious but alive. Kevin lived on the second floor. He was rushed to the hospital. The story as Dante was told was this.
While ironing for work and eating sunflower seeds Kevin had a heart attack. He stumbled to his balcony perhaps to catch his breath and fell over the side where he was found. Dante later found out that the year previously that he had suffered a smaller heart attack. He never told Dante about this.
Dante’s girlfriend showed up and Dante began to cry again. He explained that he could go and look at his brothers body. He just couldn’t do it. She cried as well. She had never seen Dante cry before and it caught her off guard. His cousins asked to look at his drawings. They knew that Dante was the closest to Kevin and that he would take this very hard. Eventually they left the hospital.
In the car Dante tried to control his emotions. Sadness would quickly turn to anger which then turned to guilt and then spin its way back to anger. It was a rollercoaster he could not get off of fast enough. Dante had not seen his now oldest brother at the hospital. He had left before Dante got there. Later that night he called.
“Hey” his brother Luther said to him. “This is fucked up…”
“I know” Dante said. “He shouldn’t be dead…” Dante said as he began to cry again.
“I gotta go” his brother said while breaking down and hung up.
Dante’s girlfriend began talking about her grandmother and how much her death affected her. Your grandmother? Dante thought to himself. How can you compare your 80-something year old grandmother that you never wanted to visit or talk to with my 32 year old brother that died suddenly of a heart condition that I didn’t know about? There is no comparison!
Dante knew it was wrong to think this way and felt guilty for it. He called his job and explained what happened and that he wouldn’t be coming in to work the next day. They told him to take as much time as he needed. How much time does it take to get over something like this? A week? A Month? A year? A lifetime?
Who knows?
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