We Will Miss You Forever Jules

Over the last couple of weeks we’ve been reeling from the tragic and sudden news that Jon’s sister had taken her own life. We found out over a choppy signal on Skype, and while we worked on the details of getting out of the country (we were in the middle of our visa renewal process) and getting to Colorado, we were mostly in a daze. We spoke to our family and agonized over the limitations of communication and the distance between us. We spent hours at the immigration office on the same day we heard the news - all in a fog. We made flight reservations for astronomical amounts of money in order to fly at the last minute.

The reality of it all was hard to take in.

Often it seems like we forget about our “real” life back in the US. It felt like time had sort of stopped and that it would wait for us to pick up where we left off when we returned. Well, it didn’t stop and we didn’t know just how quickly it was passing. We didn’t know that the last time we saw Julie would be the really last time. We didn’t do or say any of things we would’ve done or said if we could’ve possibly known. We can only spend the rest of our lives wishing we’d had a chance to say goodbye.

What would we say anyway? Would we have wasted our last moments pleading for it not to be? Of course. Would we have spent the last seconds begging for her to wait and stay with us, even if it was more painful for her than we can imagine? Despite our knowledge that it is selfish - of course. Would it have made any difference? Who knows? The reality of now is that we miss her more than words can say. We will never have the chance to make our case for staying with us, and we will never get to say how important she was in our lives.

We made it to Colorado in time for the funeral. It was surreal in the way that all funerals are, but acutely bizarre under the conditions of jet-lag and reverse-culture shock. It was hard to process – it is hard to process. The pain and sadness was directed in so many directions.

One thing that seemed so stark was the emptiness of life in suburban USA. Compared to life in Bangladesh, everything seemed so clean and perfectly manufactured to create a sense of stability - but it was all so meaningless. In the dark of night, how much comfort did it bring? None. It was just pressure to consume, to buy, to fulfill some sort of unwritten measure of consumer attainment. It was hard to process our anger at how this pressure may have affected Julie and easy to fixate on given the abrubt cultural shift. If only we could have talked one last time about the ridiculousness of these pressures- that she was fine how she was; that nobody cared if she owned a house, or had debt, or had the latest fashions, or was thin enough to wear them. We just loved her and liked being around her. We hope deep down she knew. We felt angry that this lifestyle was hurting the people we love, confusing them into feeling inadequate.

How could anyone as amazing as Julie ever feel inadequate? It makes us sick to think about it.

Yet there has to be a way to see beyond this anger and sadness. We aren’t really at the place where we are able to see the bright side, but we are able to appreciate the totally awesome person Julie was.

Julie was the one who always understood where we were coming from - closest in age, political affiliation, and general irritable temperament. Julie was the one who always came to visit, whether it was Colorado Springs, New York, or Boston, and always had a good time. She was at our wedding, at Atticus’ birth, and every major moment in our life. She was the best big sister, aunt, and sister in law we could have asked for, and we hope that deep inside, beneath the pain of everyday life, she knew it. Julie was always the one we never had to explain ourselves to – she got it, got us, and we are forever grateful for it.

We can only do the same for her- she doesn’t need to explain this to us. We love her; we respect her right to make this, the most personal of all choices. Julie, we wish it was different, but we know you made your choice.

We struggled with what to post on this subject. How could you capture such a sweet and amazing person in any meaningful way in a blog post? We don’t really know, which is why this blog post has been about us.

Sam and Atticus arrived back in Dhaka on Friday, and Jon follows in a week. For Jon it has been comforting to be around his family and yet it has been hard to deal with the fact that there are now only four siblings. The return, for Sam, has felt surreal – nothing seems to relate back to the simultaneously comforting and harsh reality we left behind. It is hard to find meaning so far away right now. We’ll try to keep making sense of the world and are sure this new perspective on life will be forever present in the observations we make from this point forward.

Rest in Peace Julie. We love you so much.