Today I’m going to go about my blog post in a different fashion. I want to write about my cousin who passed away in 1991, a few days shy of his 27th birthday. The circumstances around his death follow a common route, but basically his heart finally gave out. Nino was about 4 years older than me, and he was, simply put, my hero. He is the one who passed on the love of baseball to me…and the hatred of all things Boston (yup, he was even worse than I am when it came to hating on the Red Sox). His early death taught me that this world can be a very wicked place, and good people don’t always get what they deserve.
The 4 years that separated us might as well have been 14 years because I was an extremely sheltered and shy young girl. And Nino…well, he was a Deadhead. He loved the Grateful Dead and reggae music and I think turned to it often to sooth his soul like we all do with favorite music. Like Deadheads tend to do, he travelled throughout the U.S. to see his band play. I know the time he spent with his wife, Beth, my sister, Ann, and other friends are cherished memories. But that was all foreign to me. The farthest I went to see a band was Syracuse, and I still have never seen a band two nights in a row. His family owned a bakery and deli, and Nino worked hard just as he played hard. I would stop by the deli to see him and catch up every so often, and he always would find some time to talk with me. We never had any big discussions, but I always left happier than I arrived.
He was the older brother that I never had and could be as hypocritical as older protective siblings can be. I remember one of the rare nights that we were out together, I put a cigarette in my mouth and lit it (I smoked for like 3 months when I started college). Out of nowhere he came from across the room and took it out of my mouth and stepped on it. I thought he was just teasing me so I turned my back and put another one in my mouth. Again, he took it out of my mouth and said, “Don’t smoke”. Now I was upset and said something to the effect of “You are telling me not to smoke?”. He just nodded his head and warned me not to light another cigarette. I didn’t that night and quit soon after. He didn’t care too much for my taste in men either (i.e. alcoholics and drug addicts) and made it clear he thought I could do a lot better. Another night when we were out, I introduced him to my date who was from Ireland. He shook his hand and was nice but I could feel his eyes watching us the whole night. When we left about an hour later, I waved to him and he just nodded his head. I knew he wasn’t happy and Beth later told me he didn’t like the looks of the guy. When I asked her why, she said “Because he was a man dating his cousin!”.
I can’t remember the first hour or so after hearing about his death. It totally destroyed me. I do remember crying, shouting, and then crying again. It felt like the world had completely stopped. Numbness overtook me at some point and, thank God, stayed with me through the wake and funeral, which I believe took place on his exact birthday (I could be wrong…he died on March 11th so it was very close to his birthday). But once all the formalities were done, all I felt was anger. I had plenty of hard feelings for the whole world. I was mad at Nino for living in a way that ended up taking his life. I was mad at his “friends” and others whom I felt led him to this tragic end. But most of all I was mad at God for taking Nino away from Beth and their young children. It didn’t make sense then and although the anger is long gone, the senseless waste of such a beautiful soul will never make sense.
During this time I turned to alcohol more so than at any other time in my life. I made stupid decisions all the time when it came to drinking and driving. I fell for men who didn’t really care for me which was just fine because I didn’t care for myself too much either. When I started seeing a counselor, I was told that I might have a problem with addiction. I denied it and left counseling while continuing to drink to numb my feelings. The people I hung out with all used alcohol in this way so I didn’t see anything wrong with it. To make matters worst, we lost another 4 people in my family over the following three years. It seemed like Death was a constant visitor, and each time it came I sunk deeper into depression. Luckily, I had some angels watching over me, and I’m sure if Nino wasn’t one of them, he was definitely the one who recruited them for me. I started to think more about my future and to let go of the darkness that surrounded me.
I like to think that Nino is watching over all of us, especially now that he has a grandson who is named after him. Every time I see little Nino, I can’t help but think how proud Nino would be of him and of his own children. Missing him never goes away but through the years sharing memories about his generous nature and great sense of humor always bring a smile to my face. Happy Heavenly Birthday, Nino. I love you and can never fear death because it means I will finally be able to see you again.
One Foot In, One Foot Back 