“Have you talked to your brother?”, my grandma asked me. It was New Years Eve, around 10pm, 2004. I was celebrating in downtown Saint Louis. My very first New Year out of the Sea Org. People were partying all around me. I had to move away to find a place where I could better hear my grandma.
“No, not recently,” I told her.
Truth was, I was SP declared and he was not. I assumed we were disconnected. We hadn’t had a chance to talk before I was declared.
“Griffin’s cancer is back, and it’s not looking good. He may only have a few days left”, she stated. My heart sunk.
Griffin was only 6. He had been battling cancer since his diagnosis of neuroblastoma at 1 1/2.
During my years in the Sea Org I tried to be there or at least present for my brother and his family. But that was impossible. The stress of the Sea Org and its urgency to save the world left no time for family.
I told my grandma that I would see what I could do.
It was a dilemma for sure. I didn’t want to just show up. What if he didn’t want that? My grandma hadn’t said that he wanted me there. I was afraid to impose. I was worried I would be overstepping to show up out of the blue.
As I looked at all the partiers on the street, my good mood was over. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to take Griffin’s place.
I sat on the street curb and lost track of time as I thought about the very few times I did manage to visit with him and his family.
What a sweet, darling boy. Why? Why? Why? There are no answers.
I wished I could meet death and offer to take Griffin’s place. He was too young to be taken so soon.
I didn’t know what to do.
Scientology funerals teach us that our own grief is selfish. And so much of that was ingrained in me still. The more I tried not to cry the more I cried.
I finally forced and willed myself to stop crying. But I still could not enjoy the festivities.
I remembered when he was first diagnosed, my brother asked me “do they even make coffins that small?”.
Dammit. It’s just not fair.
I had several of these moments of “what do I do?!?!” Agh.
Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.
And still there is also this “I am suppressive and maybe I could cause damage to Griffin by my mere presence.”
I didn’t go.
I wanted to be there for my brother and his family, but also I didn’t want to be a problem for them. It was agonizing.
But I did spend that entire time thinking about my nephew and hoping he was at least going to have a smooth transition.
He passed away on 4 Jan, only a few short days after my grandma’s call.
I remember years earlier when Erik, my step-dad was in hospice, Griffin had come by and given a red balloon to my mom. He whispered to her to let the balloon go when Erik died and it would guide him where to go.
Griffin loved red balloons.
And so I had my own private funeral for him, my way to remember him, the short time that I knew him. He was a fun kid. He could be very funny. Always smiling and chatty. The sweetest.
I truly believe he touched the hearts of everyone who was lucky enough to have met him.
Skittles, Mountain Dew and the color red. His favorite things.
Rest in Peace, sweet Griffin.