I don’t like to sleep on this night. At least, not alone. It’s because of a day long ago. A day that has affected my love life forever.

I know he didn’t mean to leave me, or any of us, but it was just one of those things that couldn’t be undone. Something none of us had a choice in.

It was April 1st and Mom had already run out the door as she hurried to her nursing job at St.Mary’s Hospital in San Francisco, at least an hour and a half commute from Concord. Dad was in Wisconsin. I was eating cereal and watching cartoons, trying to dodge the school day entirely. At four, I had my plan on skipping the preschool party the class was having. I had plotted it out the day before.

“You don’t want to go to the party,” the teacher had asked, unsure of why someone would miss out on the fun, and the guarantee of candy. “Nope.” I was pretty stubborn.

My sister, Jennice, 18, fresh out of a high school in Wisconsin, was awake when it was time to wake Bobby. At 16, he kept his popularity up at Mt. Diablo High by being great as a wrestler. He had fans. Some for the sport, most for his genuine appeal.

We went to wake him up, but he wasn’t ready to open his eyes. My sister and brother used to play April Fool’s jokes on each other, they were funny like that. She called out his name, then she threw a sneaker at him. He didn’t move. He wasn’t going to ever move.

The paramedics came, but nothing could be done. I made the excuse of urgently needing Q-tips so I could watch the men put his lifeless body on the stretcher. He had passed in his sleep, his heart just stopped beating and nobody in the townhouse knew.

My mom was called at the hospital, she wasn’t told the tragic end until she arrived at the hospital. My uncle was ringing his hands as he said, “I’m so sorry Susan.”

I used to ask where he went, when was he going to be back. Everyone pointed upwards and said he was in the sky.

I tried to find him on my first airplane ride. I had the window seat, but no view of the man who never returned to me. I asked my mom where he was, demanded that she point me in his direction through the layers of clouds. He did not appear.

My dad came back for a little while because even though they were divorced now, they had lost a healthy child together. My mom was going through one of the roughest periods in all her life. She wanted her children to have a good life and she worked so hard at it. But the loss was too much to bear alone, especially when you feared that your other children might not wake up.

There’s really no answer for it, why it happened. No doctors could ever really explain completely, just possible rare cases that it may apply to.

My dad had to leave again and it was just my mom and I. I think about all of her new lesbian relationships, and how I was pulled in and out of each and everyone of them.

When I cried at night, I used to moan out Bobby’s name for years.

When my sweet sixteen edged close, I was a sophomore at Westmoor. I knew when the end of March crept near. Always.

I was scared of some kind of weird coincidence occurring on the same day at the exact same age he left. I was more fearful for my mom; I knew she would definitely go crazy. Plenty of anxiety ran through those veins of mine. It’s why I still live life to the fullest, because I am fully aware that tomorrow is never guaranteed.

The anxiety has slowly drifted away, the superstitious mind frame no longer solid.

Bobby’s things are kept in a box with my mom. She’s the one who deserves to keep all of his belongings, yet she never goes through it. I kept his blanket. I can’t look at it for very long, but every so often I pull out the 80’s styled black, red, and checkered blanket out from the closet. I know it kept his body warm; I needed something more than just pictures to remember him. I also am the keeper of the VHS tape of the interview KRON-4 did on the incident. My dad is cradling me as I suck on my two fingers. My mom is tearing, confessing her fear of the rest of her children not waking up. My
sister has feathered bangs and tells people to “live life, love life.” I only show this video to certain people, most people don’t even know that I have a brother. It’s a sore spot that still hurts, and I don’t think most people can understand. I was very young when it happened, but it was at a time where development occurred. I have the memories.

I’ve been to his gravesite once and cried my heart out. My friend’s husband used charcoal to trace over his new headstone marker, it lays flat in the ground, near the baby graves of Memory Gardens in Concord, CA, no where near impressive or flashy.

I think about the men that I have looked up to, respected, and the boys I have let into my life. The boys could never stand up to the men, and I never really understood why. Why did I allow the ones who never proved anything to me in so deeply into my own self? I was always okay alone, but then sometimes I would catch a case of the lonelies.

Sometimes I wonder if the boys I’ve picked in the past are reflective of the loss of my brother. It’s those psychology classes that refer to Freud and possible daddy issues. I don’t believe in it completely, but I’ve self-diagnosed myself and feel that perhaps I have abandonment issues, and so what, I know everyone has their problems. Maybe I keep the ones that aren’t worthy because it won’t hurt as badif they go, seeing that I never truly loved them in the first place. Luckily, I’ve learned more about myself through these 26 years and know that I deserve the best, especially since I am dedicated, faithful and genuine with my love. It just seemed to take forever to reach this point of ease. I’ve kept the assholes around, the no-personalities, the duds, unsure if there would ever truly be someone just for me. I’ve settled in the past, but I’m over that, a little more grown. All of my high school buddies are getting married, having kids, but I know I don’t need all of that to be happy with life, but I do want it, really bad too.

The one I am with now, the one who is snoring ever so slightly next to me in my bed right now, is a man. He doesn’t know this yet, but I’ve given a piece of my heart to him. I do not want him to ever leave, but we’ve been together long enough for me to know that he is worthy. My heart doesn’t have to be scared of searching for him in a place I can never find him. He’s right here, by my side.
—Ann Bassette