The day he died, a piece of me died with him. It’s a day I will never forget- June 1, 2011. It was a normal day, nothing out of the ordinary until my boyfriend, Kevin, and I pulled into the gravel driveway of my big, grey house. Normally, with all of the flowers and the large white porch my house looks cheerful, welcoming even, but through the car window I could see the looks on my parents’ faces and knew something was terribly wrong.

I stepped out of the car and immediately looked to my mother for answers. She said slowly, “Meg, Paul just called and told us that he is sorry for our loss. We think that your Uncle Danny committed suicide. We’re just waiting for a confirmation call. ” I froze. A lump formed in my throat as I tried to hold back my tears. I didn’t want to cry in front of everyone so instead I just blocked it out and went and sat in my room with Kevin, hoping there was a miscommunication.

My mother walked into the room shortly after and just nodded. I completely broke down. I laid my head in Kevin’s lap and sobbed as he and my mother tried rubbing my back to comfort me. Eventually my mother left to check on everyone else and Kevin stayed with me for hours until finally I cried myself to sleep.

I woke up the next morning alone, hoping that it was all a dream. I checked my phone and had several Facebook and text messages from my cousins Elizabeth, Joziph, and Amanda asking questions and telling me how sorry they were. It was real. Exams were coming up so I decided I had to go to school even though I was in no condition to be there. I looked in the mirror and my eyes were swollen, my face was red, and my black mascara covered my cheeks. I was a mess. I skipped my normal hair and make-up and instead just washed my face, brushed my teeth, and tied my long blonde hair into a high pony-tail.

I cried all the way to school that day and I’m surprised my VW beetle even made it to the school parking lot. All day I just went between crying and feeling numb. I ignored my surroundings and muttered the occasional “it’s okay” when people would tell me they were sorry.

A few days later came the wake. I told myself I would be okay but the second I walked into St.Stanislaus Kostka Church and saw my uncle (who happens to be identical to my father) I ran out of the church and collapsed under a big tree in the church yard. I sat there for a long time and then my cousin, Dillon, came out by me. He sat down and said, “Well, everyone sent me out here to talk to you because they know I’m the only one that you’ll listen to.” I smiled because I knew it was true and told him exactly how I was feeling. He completely understood and eventually he convinced me to go into the church by him, his girlfriend Destini, and Kevin. After that was the funeral. I was strong through most of it until my five year old twin cousins, JaKota and JoHanna, went up to tell their daddy goodbye. That was one of the hardest parts of the entire day.

Now, four months later I still think of my uncle every day. I miss how he laughed at everything and think of how much he and my father are alike. Every time I pass his house I turn down my radio and say a prayer. I visit the cemetery and bring crosses and flowers. When someone says “Ugh, I’m just going to kill myself!” I can’t help but get angry and tell them that they shouldn’t say that. I hardly ever get to see the girls (Jake and Jo) because none of our family gets along with their (crazy) mother, but when I do see them, I see Uncle Danny. They have the same laugh, face, and spirit which makes me very happy. It’s hard when someone is taken from you naturally, but believe me, it’s harder when they take themself away from you.