#NerdsUnite: Three deaths in 30 days ... I sent condolences to the aunt, but when do I get to say "uncle?"

I want to challenge myself with something I've never done before. Instead of writing out what happened next in this series of posts ... I want to write it in reverse chronological order. The reason why this is challenging for me is because I have a photographic memory and when I write I can (with the help of headphones) completely relive my life experiences. I've never done it backwards, but considering how "upside down I feel" it seems appropriate. 

::cue post::

I knew based on the fear that I felt for going to Burning Man that it was the "right thing to do." I accepted that I was going to come back a different person, I just didn't understand what that actually meant.

The best way I can describe this feeling is to compare it to living in an attic for 33 years completely unaware that there was an entire house downstairs.

I've spent the majority of my life in my head and now I've begun exploring my heart which is building out the rest of my home. 

A side effect of my move has been living in this constant fog-like-state. Some days it's been clearer, other days, I've spent wondering if I'm about to go off a cliff. 

The heaviest marine layer started a few weeks back when I got this text ...  

Without thought, (and with manager in tow) I bolted over to her unit in utter disbelief.

<tangent> Two of my friends live in the same building, and coincidentally I was helping the owner of their building with a project. I had spent weeks going back and forth to their place where we'd all hang out - which is how I got the gig to begin with; I just happened to be there. </tangent> 

Two minutes later, I placed one of the two 911 calls from the apartment.

When I say placed, I mean I was successful at punching the numbers on my iphone, but was unsuccessful at forming anything close to a word, let alone a single sentence. 

One by one, the neighbors that were home came out (due to the sound of screams that my ears will never be able to erase). Still speechless I handed a stranger my iphone. 

Hours later, I watched my friend that I had seen four days before ...

AND who had texted two days before ... 

She never responded back to my text.

... be wheeled out in a black bag by a guy wearing a jacket identical to this ... 

The management then contacted her next of kin as I painstakingly placed over 30 phone calls that day to our mutual friends. She meant a lot of things to a lot of people and the last thing I wanted my friends to do is to read about the news over text, or even worse in the form of an RIP post in social media. 

Call after call ... 

Cry after cry ... 

The words escaping my mouth began to mimic an answering machine.  

"I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you this," I started with, "but [insert name here] has passed away" 

One by one the next response was a loud "WHAT?" 

Some followed with hysterical cries, or tears. Others quickly asked the most obvious question, "how is this possible?" 

Hanging my head low, I explained that I didn't know anything. I just happened to be here and wanted to make sure her close friends were let known personally. 

We gathered in the building that night searching for peace in the sudden arrival of our friend's final rest in peace. 

The next day was spent in a haze. It still hadn't hit me that my very young and healthy friend had just ::poof::all of the sudden passed away. How does this happen? We were told almost immediately there was no foul play, which helped to a degree, but still didn't take any of the pain and confusion away. 

To make matters worse, our personal heartbreak then made international headlines. 

I then received a group text asking if I could speak with the family. 

"Of course," I said without thought ready to help with anything I could do. 

"There are some people out there trying to capitalize on her death, and they need your help." 

I hadn't been on the computer that day but assumed it meant something had broken in the media (she was considered a public figure).

I quickly googled her before the meeting was set to begin and saw the first of many outlets reporting on what happened. 

I was pleasantly shocked as I choked back the tears reading the articles out loud to my best friend (who also knew her very well). The headlines included the words of "icon" and "legend" placed right next to her name. 

"Best. Death. Ever." I shouted with a mascara stained smile to everyone's surprise!!! 

While yes, I was devastated at the loss of my friend, but I also couldn't help how fitting it was for her to George Costanza her own life and go out on top ... 

If you're Stan Lee and die in your 90s, you "lived life to the fullest." 

If you're Marlon Brando and die in your 80s, you "had a full life." 

If you're Johnny Cash and die in your 70s, you "lived each day like it was his last." (Which Johnny Cash did in a literal sense.)

Then you get into your 60s, and you were "gone before your time."

In your 50s, you were "taken too soon."

And anything below your 50s is considered "tragic and unthinkable." 

Her death not only made her the talk of the town but she even ranked as one of the top stories on Apple News. 

Which was another shock seeing your friend's picture as a top story while turning off the alarm on your phone. 

Later that week, we decided to all get together to celebrate her. A small group of us had plans to go out dancing with her that Thursday, so we all kept the date ... as difficult as it was. 

I wore a jacket and shoes she gave me for my birthday last year, and even donned a wig (which was something she frequently did). 

You'd never guess by our faces that we were at a memorial of any kind ... 

 ... but that's how I knew to grieve. I rallied the troops and we celebrated our friend, who again,was having the BEST DEATH EVER!! 

I was pulled aside at the end of the memorial by one of my girlfriends ... 

"I can't begin to tell you how happy I am that it was you who called to tell us the news. I just don't know how you placed so many calls that day. I just want to make sure you're not 'Jen-ing' and you're processing it enough yourself. I have to admit, you don't seem like you're compartmentalizing, but I want to make sure you're okay." 

"This is how I grieve," I admitted. "We're all here together telling stories and sharing memories. It's hard, it's all hard, and I don't know what the rest of my grieving process will be like, but with a support system like the one that we have, I'm pretty confident we can all get through it." 

That weekend I chose to shut off my phone and take a "staycation" at a hotel in downtown. I was a shell of my former self, and if I've learned anything from years of travel it's that you put on your own oxygen mask before anyone else's. 

Whether or not I believed it, I was hell bent on this sentence coming to fruition ... 

Over the next couple of days I helped the family issue their statement to the media. I was the only person in the "circle of trust" that had any sort of media training, so I did the best that I could explaining to them media 101 and began writing the press release (also known as an obituary) should an outlet not pick up our story. 

Her obituary was one of the most difficult things I have ever written. 

As I cut and pasted her accomplishments from her website, I focused on the fact that this was going to help and not hurt her. A bunch of people had already made "comments" in the press on her "behalf." A statement from the family would immediately shut down anyone trying to ride her coat tails. 

I then helped find a home for my friend's (now displaced) animal in addition to creating her memorial flyer. As I clicked send on the group email, I thought to myself, "this is it." It's very easy in these life experiences to get caught up in the narrative and drama and none of that belonged to me. I had to begin my own grieving process.

At the end of the day, I not only happened to have a friend pass away, but I was there seconds after she was found. I hope none of you have to experience this, but there is a sound a person makes when it is a "gut cry." I not only made that sound myself that day, but also heard it from friend after friend. I was proud that I was in that moment the person I thought I would be, but it didn't make the "going through it all" any easier.

En route home from one of the last meetings with the family, I was greeted by a neighbor of mine who looked like he had experienced his own version of death.  

"She's dead," he admitted in shock. 

Going back into my tape recorded answer I said, "I know, I'm so sorry I didn't know you knew her." 

"How did you know?" he asked confused. 

"I happened to be there randomly," I said. "I was one of the people who called 911 earlier in the week." 

"We just called 911," he said. "The cops aren't even here yet." 

"Wait, what?!" I said in shock quickly realizing he wasn't talking about my friend, he was talking about someone else. 

Other than ... 

I then found out that my neighbor directly across the hall (we have an indoor/outdoor style building) had been found dead inside her apartment. Her boyfriend hadn't heard from her in a few days and asked my neighbor to help him get access to the unit, which unfortunately he was able to successfully do. 

"My eyes can't unsee," he said. 

My ears empathized as I placed my arms around him saying how sorry I was. 

Losing a friend I was close to hit my heart. Now in my actual home DIRECTLY ACROSS THE HALL, my (very young) neighbor was ALSO found dead. 

I wasn't close to her personally, but seeing that now familiar blue seal meant I was getting the fuck out of dodge. 

I was so busy with my friend's death, I had barely been home. I knew nothing, I heard nothing, and my assumption (based upon common sense) was that all of her direct neighbors were going to be questioned. 

I wasn't willing to sit through a repeat of the life experience I had just days before. This TRULY didn't belong to me, and I already had so little left to give to anyone. 

I then called the Music Man asking him to come over and a few hours later, he arrived shocked at how bright my apartment was. (I normally like to live in a cave.) 

"You're obviously freaked out," he said. "I've never seen your place lit like this." 

"I'm going to be freaked out until I find out what she died from. If it's foul play of any kind, I'm moving." 

"I can't believe this not only just happened to your friend, but for you to come home to also find your neighbor deceased." 

I was aware of what was happening immediately around me, but none of it was sinking in. Fortunately, again, with such a great support system in place - I didn't really have to do a lot of thinking. 

Once my friends had heard about the loss of my neighbor too, they showed up at my door with wine, groceries, and even a penguin facial mask that I made immediate use of. 

I knew this life experience would never make sense, so I might as well just continue to make it weird. Life isn't fair. People die before their time, and all I could do was enjoy my own life and honor them by living it. 

Which I did that night as best as I could ... 

I returned to work a few days later, and explained to my colleague what happened. She couldn't believe it either, but unfortunately had some news of her own.

She explained that one of our colleagues (who had been in and out of the hospital for almost a year) had finally succumbed to his illnesses.

I had been the cheerleader of sorts for the company visiting him in the hospital bringing him pizza to bribe the nurses, flowers to brighten up his room, and balloons just because everyone likes balloons (GOD BLESS THIS GIF) ... 

I wish I could say I was surprised, but I wasn't. Sad yes, but no where near the familiar feeling that like a fish had begun stinking up my life. 

Here I was only recently moving into my body yet taking hits to my head, heart, and home all days apart. 

It turns out my neighbor died accidentally (without foul play). My colleague had a private ceremony with his family, and while we still don't know about my friend, I chose not to go to the "official" memorial. It didn't feel healthy staying in this never-ending "death mode." 

"You're doing the right thing," my girlfriends said on Friday. 

I thanked them, but didn't need that reassurance. 

"Now can we talk about the wachuma(the grandfather to ayahuasca) I did last month," I said to the group? "Because yes, this is fucked up, but so is that ... only in a really good way." 

 "Let me tell you," I said more than ready to change the subject and what I already told you about ayahuasca was nothing compared to wachuma was like. 

#nerdsunite