On Tuesday morning I noticed the memorial for the 15 year old killed in the drive-by was removed. The only evidence remaining was spilled candle wax on the curb. It felt as though the City of Chicago was giving us all a gentle reminder to move on. The time to mourn was over; life continues onward.
That same morning I spoke with my brother about how I was feeling or rather wasn’t feeling. He assured me these feelings not only normal but expected after traumatic experiences. I felt a wave of relief overcome me.
The relief increased when a fearful confession to a coworker of how I had been feeling was expected. By the end of the day, I had two almost-but-not-quite panic attacks; a huge improvement over the day prior. Finally a night of restful sleep.
The next morning the phone rang out, cutting through my sleep. It took me a second to identify the sound and answer the call. My dad recounted his trip up north, sparing no details, working up to the reason for his call. My grandmother, his mother, passed away early that morning in her sleep.
She was eight-nine and her mind was taken over by Altzheimer’s. Even still, she would say, “Nothing to complain about!” when asked how she was doing.
A time to mourn again.
The sinking realization of the event that occured on Friday has not been easy to process. A numbness has taken over my heart to the point that at times I find myself wondering if it is still beating. Sometimes I can’t breathe, gasping for air as I imagine those do in the midst of a severe asthma attack. Other times I shake at varying degrees of intensity as tears form in my eyes. Two of the last four nights I cried myself to sleep. What is uncomfortable for me is that when I find myself sobbing, I don’t feel anything. I am not crying because I am so happy to be alive, nor am I crying because I am so sad for the lost life.
It feels like I am crying for nothing, though I am sure there is a reason.
A 15-year-old boy was shot and killed this morning in what police described as a gang-related drive-by shooting on Chicago’s Northwest Side.
The youth was shot about 7:30 a.m. at Fullerton Avenue and Pulaski Road in the Logan Square neighborhood as he was walking a bicycle with another boy, police said. A silver Mitsubishi sedan with custom rims pulled alongside them and one of the car’s occupants opened fire, striking the victim in the head. The boy, Geroge Carrasquillo, of the 3500 block of West Belden Avenue, was taken to Advocate Illinois Masonic Medical Center and pronounced dead at 7:57 a.m., according to a Cook County medical examiner’s office spokeswoman. Police said no one else was wounded by the gunfire. Investigators believe the victim was in a gang and the occupants of the car are members of a rival gang.
On my way to the Metra, I saw these boys talking to an older guy making what it appeared to be some kind of exchange. They straightened up as I walked by and I looked at each one in the eye before moving past. Seconds later, I made it to the corner and heard a “crack, crack crack!” I thought to myself, “I think that was a gun,” as I turned to walk towards the sounds. Realizing that to not be a good idea, I stopped and did what felt like a slow-motion 360 degree pan of the corner. I was struck by the fact that I could not see any people, except those in their cars.
I looked down and saw that everyone was on the ground, except for me. “I should get down,” I thought and went to hide behind the fence. The was a wide fence with dead bushes and I realized quickly that I put myself even moreso in the line of fire. I went back to the corner and touched the back of the girl I had been standing next too. “OH MY GOD!” she cried, looking up at me. “OH MY GOD!” I replied and as we both realized instantaneously that the light had changed to walk we ran together to the Metra station. As we were running, she turned to me and said, “I started to take the Metra because it was safer!”
We turned into the station, she stated very loudly, “I didn’t see anything, did you!? I didn’t see anything!” It took me a minute she was not stating this for me but for whomever else might be listening. We split at the top of the stairs and I immediately called my friend Sinthia. As I was explaining what was happening, emergency vehicles swarmed the intersection and the train came.
“I saved this seat just for you!” the woman on the train said as she moved her things. “Isn’t it a beautiful day? The weather is gorgeous, and it is going to be a great weekend . . .” “I was just in a drive by shooting!” I said and the story spilled out of my mouth. “You know what?” she replied, “Today is going to be a great day. Because today more than any other day you know what it means to be alive. Call your mother and tell her you love her, call your family members and tell them that you love them. And then have a great day.”
The rest of the day was a blur, as it was also the day that everyone found out I resigned from my job. I called the police in the afternoon and they said I did not need to come into the station. My coworker and I decided it was ‘Celebrate Life’ day, which mostly consisted of the largest fancy coffee drink they sell at Caribou Coffee. That night I got together with my girlfriends and we laughed and laughed but I just felt like an empty shell. I drank a bit too much to ensure that I would pass out. As I put my head on my pillow, I started to cry. I woke up a the crack of dawn (unheard of on a Saturday) and could not lay in bed any longer. I got up, checked email and then started to cry. For a half hour I cried uncontrollable sobs until I called my sister-in-law and she talked to me until I stopped.
I had dinner at Sinthia’s house and around 10:30 felt a poke. “Just go to bed!” Sinthia said and I happily obliged. When I woke up this morning, I felt a lot better. On the way home from church I decided I should drive by the scene of the crime to prepare myself for the morning commute. Orange cones, yellow police tape and tarp covered the spot I assume to be covered by blood. A teddy bear, flowers and candles created a make-shift memorial along the fence. I was unprepared for my reaction, as the sobs once again came.
You see, sometimes I exaggerate, usually to tease or over-accentuate a point. Seeing the scene of the crime and seeing how close I was to the victim, the fear for my life I felt was no exaggeration.
Thirty seconds sooner.
If the car came thirty seconds sooner, I would have been standing in front of the victim.
I quit my job today. Don’t worry, I have another. It was a difficult conversation to have with my supervisor and she spent an hour and a half trying to convince me otherwise. She also pulled in the HR person to tag-team me for a good portion of the time. I was offered more money, my choice of clients, my choice of teams and even a hit. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I was told.
I want to be happy and excited about my new job and my week of vacation (!), but it is hard to be when I see the look of disappointment in my coworkers eyes.
It has been a rough week. In fact, I have wondered at various points during this last week if I was on TV. Instead of a bloopers show, it would be a real-life drama.
Three top executives quit on Monday. Rather, they have all quit at varying times within the last two months but it did not become public knowledge until Monday. As a knee-jerk reaction, they promoted my awful former boss and moved me back under him. He gave me a pep talk about how we can be successful together. I told the president I didn’t want to work with him any more. She told him I said that. He had a meeting with me to convince me otherwise. During this meeting, he also said disparaging remarks about our managers who had quit. One of the managers he was a big fan (if not the biggest fan) of last week when he were still in charge. At this point I went numb. I had never come face-to-face with such disloyality and it sickened me. He also took the opportunity to make cutting remarks to me about me (the title of this post included). I know he is trying to make me doubt myself so that I will need him. He needs me to be successful; I do not need him to be successful. But he needs me to need him. These are the mindgames I have dealt with for the past year. “I don’t know what else you want from me; I have done everything for you!” he pleaded.
Except be honest.
So I told him he is unable to control his temper. I told him I was uncomfortable watching him disrespect our collegues because it is never okay regardless of little you think of them. I told him I was not afraid of his temper, rather I did not choose to engage in such behavior. Then I told all the presidents - past, present and future - everything he said, right down to his disloyality. The former president - the one who he blamed for all the problems - was amazed and disgusted by this sudden turn and vowed to “take care of it” before he left. The present and future presidents promised a 30 period, after which I would not have to work with him any more. A mid-level managers encouraged me to file a complaint with HR. Another took me out for lunch to placate me with wine and sincere promises to distance me from this awfully disloyal person.
So here I sit with a glass bottle of wine watching my DVR shows, relaxing after a week to end all weeks. I am encouraged by the fact other people think his treatment of me is inappropriate. Even more so, I received a call from my recruiter today. The agency I spent five interviews with has decided to prepare an offer. The recruiter called to confirm my salary requirements before the official offer is prepared, so I expect to hear something early next week.