Trigger Warning: If you are triggered by loss of life, losing best friends, cutting, or by medical conditions, please don't read this. This is hard enough for me to write when I have no such triggers, I would feel terrible if someone was triggered because of something I spoke openly about. This is a true and personal account about losing a childhood friend so please be courteous and respect this article.
A bit of backstory, LeeAnn Marie Binder was the recipient of three double lung transplants throughout her life. Once shortly after she was born, another when we were ten, and one last fall. Because of the operations, she had to be on several medications that stunted her growth. She was a few inches over three feet tall. She loved rock, most of all Disturbed, Papa Roach, Cradle of Filth, System of a Down, and 3 Days Grace. She loved all animals, but loved her dogs and leopards the most. Her favorite colors were black and purple. She loved having her nails done, texting, knitting, playing Yu- Gi- Oh, and food. That girl could put down two Big Mac Meals before you could blink an eye. We jokingly called her "The Pit" in middle school because no matter how much you gave her, she always wanted more. LeeAnn never knew a stranger. She was kind to everyone, even if they annoyed the hell out of her. She lit up any room she walked into, and it was impossible not to love her. LeeAnn and I became close for a number of reasons. For instance, she didn't question my love for black and anime or Marilyn Manson. She just got it. She and I have very similar names- DeAnne Marie and LeeAnn Marie. LeeAnn was the first person that knew when I started cutting. She never questioned why or told me to stop, she just reminded me that I had people that were willing and ready to listen whenever I was ready to talk. Ultimately it was her, Mary (another childhood best friend, our third musketeer), and Curtis that got me to stop.
On January 11, 2015 at 10:15 A.M. I recieved a text from my grandmother stating that one of my best friends since elementary had died. I was stunned. Baffled. "No. No way. She just turned twenty,that's not possible." I called my mother to tell her about the ridiculous text I'd gotten but before I could even speak, the first thing out of her mouth was "Oh, Deebug, I'm so sorry." That's how I knew. I knew then that it wasn't a joke, it wasn't false information, it was real. Lee was gone. I apparently collapsed, because I looked up and five co workers- two of them being certified nurses- were surrounding me, asking what happened and if I was okay, if I'd hit my head or tripped on something. All I could think to do was sob. I haven't cried that hard for a very long time. My mother was still on the phone with me and said my grandmother was on her way to get me to take me wherever I needed to go. The first place that came to mind was Mary's house. I thought I was close to Lee, Mary was definitely closer. If I was a wreck, I could only imagine how she was handling the news. I told my mother I needed to go, I had to talk to Mary. She said she'd call me back in fifteen minutes.
So, sitting in front of the laundry room bawling my head off, I attempted to get to Mary's number pulled up. She was asleep. She had no idea. I will never forgive myself for waking her up to tell her over the phone while having no composure. Thats almost as bad as finding out through text, if not worse. I went to her house and stayed there for several hours. Looking back on it, I realize having someone that not only knows your heartbreak but shares it, helps ease the pain so much. Being with Mary was probably what got my pieces back together. I know her heart hurt more than mine, she was going halfway across the world in a few days and wouldn't be able to go to the funeral. Lee's family asked her to write a eulogy so she could still be involved.
LeeAnn's funeral was Sunday. It was a Catholic service- the first Catholic service I'd ever attended. My grandma, insisting I was not to drive, took me to and from. Walking in, I saw her sisters, brother, mother, and father all lined up next to the casket, all wearing I think seeing her made it real. She looked beautiful, like she was taking a nap. Almost half of Leeton was there, along with a few of the girls that were in our "group" at one point. As soon as they saw me, they walked up and hugged me. I hadn't seen or spoken to Beth or Caitlin in years but now they hugged me so tight I thought I was going to suffocate. It was an evening service, so when we came out of the church, the sun was setting. While driving home, I saw the most beautiful sunset I'd ever seen. Purples and blues as far as the eyes could see. All I managed to say was "Oh my god, Ema...it's her." We pulled over and watched the sun go down, not leaving until it had fallen out of sight.
The reason this is called "Open Window" was because of an unofficial lesson I learned while working in a retirement home. Whenever someone dies, you're supposed to open the window so their soul can get out. I always connected it with the saying "When God closes a door, he opens a window." The door is Earth, the fleshy life you live and the window is the afterlife. I understand how superstitious and ludicrous that sounds, but it's something I've firmly believed since I heard about it three and a half years ago. Looking at this gorgeous sunset, I realized it didn't matter if someone had opened a window or not: it was a superstition. She was right there. All week I'd been so worried that someone hadn't opened her window, that she'd be stuck in that hospital room forever... It didn't matter. Lee was good enough to jetline straight into Heaven, and I take comfort in knowing that she is no longer bound to this cruel planet full of so much hatred and dependant on tubes and pills to live. She's free, and she knows she is loved. And that is the only thing that matters.
I love you, Lee, and Mary and I can't wait to see you again.
Your friend,
Dee
