Closure is one of those little things that usually requires nothing more than an awkward conversation to achieve but has a massive effect on your ability to move forward. When a relationship ends for me, I make sure to have a mature conversation about it and it gives me closure to move on almost instantly. When closure comes into play, my mind easily will put things in black and white terms so that I can close that chapter and turn to a new one. However, sometimes closure isn’t an option. Those are the hardest things to move past.
I won’t say that my closure-less experiences necessarily hinder my life in any major way anymore but the curiosity will always be there. When I was a teenager I had a friend named Jens. He was your typical laid-back stoner skater kid. He wasn’t very good academically but he was always upbeat and positive (not to mention everyone’s hook up for pot.) One day they told us that he had killed himself. A shotgun to the head while staying out in the country with his uncle. Anyone who knew him didn’t believe it for a moment. He was the happiest kid around. The gun used was way too long for him to operate and his CD player had Suicide Machines in it (I guess to be ironic?) though anyone who knew him would suggest the Doors as to his preferred moody music. We knew that he had competition dealing in the area and he made it well known where he was staying for the weekend. Unfortunately his family opted not to launch any investigation. In fact they chose to have an open casket where they reconstructed his skull and face. It didn’t even look like him. I think that alone kind of made us all want to just not think about it anymore.
My other major lack-of-closure moment was the death of my father and little brother. My dad was a pilot and every year my brother and him would fly in his plane up to Wisconsin for an annual air show and to visit some of his family members. In 2009 they never came back. We hadn’t heard from them in quite some time and were getting worried. My mother started making calls to anyone and everyone trying to find them since my dad’s phone went straight to voicemail. Eventually she got a hold of a morgue in a small country town that confirmed that they were there. Apparently they had seen ‘home’ popping up on my dad’s phone but didn’t have the heart to answer it. I can remember walking into the room and asking my mother if they were okay. She screamed “They’re DEAD!” and broke into sobs. My mind turned to white noise. My legs moved on their own and I ended up in my closet staring at a wall for a while before I could digest what was happening. The official report was that they had run out of gas 20 minutes from home and struck a power line trying to crash land, sending them into a tail spin. My father’s cousin (who works for the government but nobody knows what he does) happened to be there at the site within 2 hours of the crash. He claims that he spoke to my brother before he died. First of all, my dad called us from a gas station an hour away from home. He was gassing up as he spoke so there’s no possible way they ran out of gas (they claim there weren’t even fumes) and also, how the fuck did my dad’s cousin happen to find out what had happened and make it out to the site in the middle of nowhere in time to speak to my brother when we didn’t have a clue what had happened? It drove my sister and I mad but my mother wouldn’t even talk about it. It was easier for her to just accept what they said. I still have no idea what really happened. Ever feel like someone you lost really never died and that one day you’ll just be picking up a drink at a gas station and they’ll walk right past you?
Two weeks later I started my senior year of high school and thus, had to move on immediately. This is why I prefer closure. I don’t want to dwell on an issue. I need to constantly feel like I’m moving forward and having some situation cloud up a corner of my head with questions about things that I know I need to let go really bothers me. Pictures and posts from Micky kept popping up last night. For the most part I’ve gotten past it. If I don’t think about him I’m fine and usually I can keep my mind occupied elsewhere. Seeing a picture of him did not help this. I felt a sharp pang of anxiety – though in retrospect, it may simply be reminding me of such a traumatic time in my life that triggered it. Part of me just wants to block him. I need to move on. I have a lot to give and giving it to a memory is like burning money. Being able to look back at my experiences with him as fond memories with entirely separate goals in my life will be my closure there. I’m ready to be loved back.