Today is the anniversary of the worst day.
Today marks the last “first”.
Today marks one year without Bryan Max Bernfeld.
It’s weird because every other milestone day had some sort of happy memory associated with it. Some sort of moment that we could miss or look back on fondly. Something that I wished to revisit in some way. Something that I wished I had cherished a little bit more or could remember a little bit clearer.
Today is different. Today doesn’t have a happy memory to help ease the feelings of loss and hurt. Today marks a day that I wish had never happened. And of course, today I remember every moment in perfect detail.
Waking up. Who was in the room. The decision being made. The mask coming off. The music playing.The beeping. The silence. His hand in mine. His face afterwards. The phone calls. Leaving the hospital. How strange it was to be outside. How surreal the sunshine felt. The drive home. How empty the house felt though it was full of people.
I remember every minute of that day. And the week to follow. And every moment of the week before.
I remember every second.
Last year, about a week before today, I received a horrible phone call in the middle of the night. That phone call set this horrible month in to motion. It sent Laura and I on a hurried and scary and sad car ride to Boston Children’s Hospital. I remember sitting silently in the car, exhausted from crying but wide awake from the fear of not making it in time. I remember turning to Laura and asking her what she thought happened to someone when they died. And I remember Laura saying, “I think that this can’t be it. There is no way that someone who has so much energy and life just disappears and that’s it. No way. If matter cannot be destroyed, if it only change forms, I think that’s what happens when you die. You just change forms. Because he can’t just be gone. He’s made too big of an impact on you and so many people. It doesn’t just end here.”
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I don’t know what I believe happens when you die. It’s too big of a concept for me to grapple with right now. But what I do know is that Bryan made an impact. A huge impact. On me, on his family, on his friends, on his doctors, and on people that barely even knew him. And so today I am working a little bit harder to focus on that impact.
I am thinking about those happy memories and how Bryan was just the coolest fucking dude around. How much he made me laugh, the silly voices he used to use, the way he said I love you, and the way he held my hand. How I felt safe and happy and sometimes really fucking angry all at once. How we used to watch Bones whenever we ate and how he would try so hard to stay awake if I couldn’t fall asleep. How he sent me surprise flowers on bad days and how he knew every word to every song that ever played.
So heres a little memory for you:
Last week Laura, Caitie, and I packed up a car and started our drive to Massachusetts for the PMC. It was a mix of breakfast sandwiches, caffeine, excitement, sadness, and nerves. And then the remix for R Kelly’s Ignition Remix came on. Now, if you know Bryan, you know Ignition. The man loved that song and had what can only be described as a full body rolling dance experience whenever it played. So naturally, we had a car full of ladies listening to an absolutely ridiculous song and me in the back sobbing my eyes out.
Cool calm and collected as always.
A few months ago Libby sent me this video. It’s from a party at Libby and Cait’s old apartment where Bryan is doing his full Ignition dance. Also important to note: this was not the first time I’d seen him do this dance that night. It makes me laugh and cry and laugh some more. Those body rolls.
So today, I will light a little candle for you Shoopah. Because you are missed so much but I can promise you that you are thought of and loved today and every single day.
And for the rest of us: Lets all be a little sillier, body roll a little harder, and love a little more in honor of our best guy.
There you go, my loves.
That’s all I’ve got.
Good luck today.
I love you.
<3
1 comment
You are so brave and so brilliant and so articulate. Loving you always always always, my girl. I’m reading this in Steeplechase and I’m crying and the man near me just asked what I was reading so I shared your blog with him, and I hope that’s okay, because more people should be reading this and feeling things and looking for ways to insert more body rolls into their lives.