Turn Your Face

Die From A Broken Heart

Over the past 8 days, sweat had become my second companion. It soaked through clothing, sheets, and dignity. The chills that traced up and down my extremities were only matched with the cold porcelain I vomited into for what felt like days straight. My exhaustion was paired closely with my insomnia. The only way I could pass the time was sitting straight against Hanna's bedroom wall. Eyes wide open, tingling surging through my veins. The restlessness did continue to provide a light buzz for the first 50 hours, but soon the cramps and fever set in. The buzzing of Hanna's overhead light grew to fill the gaps in my mind when I closed my eyes. Through the first 5 days or so, I was unable to see the end.

I called out. I shouted. I begged.

But days 7 and 8 gleaned clarity. Nausea and fever faded, as did the tingling and insomnia. The sweating stayed though with every ounce of sin and regret pouring through.

It was then that I could remember glimpses of the conversation that led me to this moment.

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'You won't like this. But I'm – I'm detoxing a little, but I want to have this con – conversation.'

'You've got to be kidding me...'

'Ali. Alison. Babe, for me to focus on what you're saying right now, I need you to let me take a few. Just two. Okay? Then I can focus.'

'If you reach down to the floor right now to take some fucking pills, I will know exactly who you are, Emily.'

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'It's not like you are the fucking shining example of grieving after someone dies, Alison! ...unless you wanted the plan to be for me to give up and let everyone else pick up the fucking pieces, then what was I possibly going to gain from solely relying on you?'

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'How can you compare losing parents, Han? My father was killed in the line of duty and her mo...'

'Her mom did what, Emily? Please finish your thought because this is rich... you think your loss means more because my mother chose to die!"

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'I will not have the conversation with you again until you have because this... this person in front of me is not who you truly are. I love you, Em. But not like this...I need you to leave. Come back when you find my girlfriend.'

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Regret and shame were the emotions I related to most. Regret for my words. Shame for my actions. That I couldn't distinguish between scenarios and time frames in our lives to understand the pain that strings loss together.

How bad is it that I hadn't considered Alison's loss of my father?

In my mind, I lost someone. I was the one who was affected by all of this. Alison was a bystander helping me process through the emotions. In hindsight though, Alison lost someone too. In fact, not only did she lose the greatest father in the world, but she lost me also. She experienced twice the loss through my own selfishness.

But what was the alternative? Tracing back through every scenario, I struggled to find a track that did not lead to me taking that first pill. It's what I had been taught. It is what I had practiced. It is what I had internalized as my own way to grieve.

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The day after my father passed away was The University of Chicago Athletics Honors. With the end of finals came the university's official goodbye to seniors across all D III sports. As a Junior, it was my first formal invitation to attend and prepare for the excitement I would feel a year later.