Allfaye – My Daily Ransom

Unexpected Milestones

The first year after a loss is filled with so many firsts. The dread of celebrating anything without them is daunting. The weeks leading up to those days are agonizing and seem to go by so slowly yet speed by without you realizing. You feel a new and perplexing grief that fills your world in a way that’s indescribable.

The grief you carry changes and morphs many times over. Some days it’s bearable and you remember to laugh and feel alive. Other days you feel as if you’re stuck in quicksand, the harder you fight, the more suffocating it feels. Each day is unpredictable and that’s what makes grief unmanageable at times. All you want to do is scream and fight, run and hide, just not be you.

The worst part of it all is that life goes on without them. YOUR life goes on without them and that seems impossible. How can you keep living when they aren’t? You start reaching these milestones in life. You start new careers, get promotions, start new relationships with people they will never get to know, and you think about marriage and babies. These are all milestones that are expected but still so hard to accept. Life keeps on as if nothing has changed even when you’ve changed into a new person, again and again.

Then you have unexpected milestones. I’m a baby sister. That’s one of my identifying factors and something I’ve always been very proud of. Today is the last day that I will be younger than my big brother Adam. I don’t want to close my eyes to sleep because this is a terrifying moment in my life. How can this be possible? How can tomorrow come and expect my world to not crumble all around me? How can my lungs be expected to accept the task of breathing without hyperventilating? It’s times like these when I can’t recognize if this is my reality.

So tomorrow will come either way. If I lay awake until my alarm goes off or I fall into a stupor, half-dreaming, half-awake. And my heart will be broken once again, in a new, unknown way. I will cry until my face hurts and my eyes swell. Hopefully, I will also laugh and remember I’m alive. But I don’t know how grief will show up on this unexpected milestone, my birthday.

The Month of June

The month of June holds layers of love and grief toppled throughout each moment. As each day passes, I have new memories scattered in my brain that I wish were happening. I imagine that they are still here celebrating these times with us all. The “they” I speak of are my dazzling brothers who I painstakingly miss every moment of my life.

Yes, June is Pride month and we have so much to celebrate. At times it hard to imagine Adam is not here to be apart of it. When we lost my brother Adam, everyone lost. The world and the LGBTQIA+ lost a great eccentric, loving and magnificent man.

Being gay in small towns of Pennsylvania and Ohio was no easy feat and notably this was in the late 80s and early 90s. A beautiful queer boy wearing leopard print bikini underwear while doing his little sister’s makeup in a trailer in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania. How could you not admire and look up to him? He was amazing.

Adam ended up doing some of the most fierce drag I’ve ever seen! Nikki Monte was a fabulous dancer, entertainer and loved by so many, especially in Buffalo, NY. He won many a crowns and had a standing act at a bar/club called Buddies (I believe that’s the one but I cannot remember). He was never afraid to be who he was and I admire that oh so much. He had a presents about him that made you feel light and airy. I miss how he made me feel. I miss our talks and reminiscing about the stupid things we did. Or how I’m still terrified of people curling my hair because of how many times he burnt me!

June is also the home of my brother Josh’s birthday. It’s memories like these that feel like a kick to the chest, just knocks the wind out of you. You know it’s coming, you see it barreling straight for you but there’s no jumping out of it’s way. This year I took the hit and decided to completely feel it. I went through every photo I own. I laughed, cried and felt sorry for myself, my nieces, my parents, and all the people who miss them dearly.

June holds so much in it. It’s a time to embrace all the shitty things that come with growth. To know that the people of the world can be cruel but that they can also overcome. June is about remembering where we’ve come from and how much farther we still have to go. It’s about never giving up on ourselves and standing for those who can’t. June for me represents strength, pain, light, anger, grief, sibling empowerment, and growth.

So until next June, I will continue to work to advocate for those who need me. For those little boys in leopard print undies just wanting to do makeup and for those who struggle with self love. You are worthy of your own love first and the respect of the world.

Living For Those I’ve Lost

Potential. There’s this phrase, “…living up to your potential.” Yet, we all have that potential to do and be great. That’s a weight we as humans carry around like an invisible backpack strapped tight to our shoulder blades. How are we using this time we’re given to reach that potential that people put upon us? Better yet, the potential we all know we have but at times just don’t feel like doing anything with.

I recently wrote about questioning my worthiness and grief playing apart of that. I’ve been examining my grief with a magnifying glass. Parts of it are still so foreign that I can’t make them out while others continue to sting like a fresh sunburn still out in the sun. Grief is a piece of my soul that vibrates with each breath that raises my chest.

I’ve been picking apart this notion of my own potential. I feel like I’ve grabbed those invisible backpacks of my brothers and thrown them on my back, too. I want to do so much but the thought of all this potential combined is just paralyzing. Where do I start? What do I need to do for them so that they have a spark of fulfillment within my doing? Living for those I’ve lost is interlaced with self doubt and an urgency for their legacy.

February is a grueling and exhausting month. I lost my dad (Bubba) on the 18th and my brother (Adam) on the 25th. I remember those days like a movie I’ve watched over and over again. It doesn’t feel as if I’ve lived them as much as experienced them on a level unknown to the mind and body. How can I live up to their potential if I’m unable to navigate my own movements.

Adam, My Brother

“My brother died so leave me alone!” The first time I said those words I was in fourth grade. A group of us were jumping on Jamis’ trampoline and a couple of other boys came up to me and started making fun of me because my brother was gay.

“Your brother is a fucking fag! He sucks dick and puts stuff up his butt!” they yelled at me from the side walk.

I didn’t know what to do. I was embarrassed for both of us. I already knew that he liked boys because, as his baby sis, I just knew him. Before he ran away to Florida as soon as he turned 18 we were together ALL the time. He was my best friend. I just knew who he was fully and completely. But I didn’t know exactly what being gay entailed so the thought of anyone putting “stuff” up their butt seemed horrifying.

I jumped off the trampoline and ran the half block back to my house. We lived in a duplex up the street above a store. I ran up the stairs then I slowly opened the top door and calmly walked in the house. I stood in the hallway and could hear my mother’s voice in the living room trying to explain to someone that everything was fine. “No, seriously, I just clicked over from talking to him. He was just on the other line. Who said he was dead?”

Those boys lived just a block the other direction next to a cousin of mine and ran to tell her about Adam. She picked up the phone immediately and called my mother crying and confused. Why hadn’t anyone told her.

“I have to go. Let me call you back.” my mother told her.

“Abigail Faye, what the hell is going on?” my mother called to me from the living room. As I turned the corner she looked at me and said “Why would you say that Adam died? That is so messed up! What is wrong with you?”

“The West boys were making fun of me because Allfaye’s gay.” I said through tears rolling down my cheeks. “I didn’t know how else to make them leave me alone.” and I ran to my room.

A few minutes later our cousin was there and I was called into the living room. “Little lady, why would you say that Adam died? That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“Tavon and Taft were making fun of me because Allfaye’s gay.” I didn’t have the words to say that I was tired of them always teasing me and hurting my feelings. I didn’t know how to express the anger they filled me with. How I wanted to jump off that trampoline and punch them in the face and kick them while they were on the ground. The rage I felt when I heard their voices overwhelmed my senses.

She looked me straight in the eyes and said something that has stuck with me my entire life. “You should be proud of who your brother is. Don’t ever let someone else make you feel bad about who he is.” and she hugged me. She may have even said more but that’s what I remember the most. “Be proud.”

From that day on I told everyone I knew that my brother was gay if they asked and even if they didn’t. I told them about my gay brother and all the amazing things he did (even though most of them didn’t matter if he was gay or straight). If I was talking to someone who didn’t know my family dynamics then I’d say “my straight brother” or “my gay brother”.

The amount of pride I’ve always held for being the little sister of my two big brothers is powerful. The strength I’ve received from that power has helped me through a lot of turmoil. I’m so thankful Josh and Adam were my big brothers. I love them so.

***Names of people outside of my siblings have been changed to protect their identity

Am I A Vampire?

I’m afraid I’m a vampire. I feel as if I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes and I have to just continue on as I watch everyone I’ve ever loved leave me.

I’ve watched the ones most dear to me leave this earth as I pray to whatever might be listening to take me with them. I long to just be with those ones who left too soon. The ones I’m meant to grow old with but they can’t return and I can’t leave to be with them. I’m trapped here begging to feel their presence and warmth again.

That’s what all this darkness must be, the life of a vampire. I must crawl around in this damp cold life, longing to find that warmth that has disappeared. My skin so fair, my veins easily seen through it’s transparency. The yearning is for the warm blood of those who have vanished; to pump through their hearts once again, to have them raise to their feet and dance with me.

The daylight hurts my eyes and burns my colorless casing they call skin. I just stumble through my days on autopilot waiting for the sleepless nights to arrive. I spend the nights sleeping for a few hours then my mind races to what I should do as I continue to exist.

For I must be a vampire, there is no other explanation.

My Sleepless Nights

It’s 4 am, I went to sleep at midnight but I’m wide awake now. This happens each night. I can’t sleep at night, I can’t take naps during the day. I can’t sleep. Ever.

When I do sleep, I have weird dreams. Many times I dream where people argue with me that you aren’t really gone. “No, your brothers are still here. I literally just saw them! What are you talking about?!” Then I wake up, thinking I’m crazy and having bizarre dreams. I go to text you…

But then it hits me. It’s like I relive those horrifying, unbearable, relentless moments, again. I try to rationalize my thoughts but they make no sense. These moments have no reasoning and are just absurd. And the anger is back. Flooding my entire body with rage as I lay there in my bed trying to grasp my thoughts yet I can’t. I want to go back in time and fix things. I want to make your lives better than they were. I need to be your baby sister. I need to hear your voice on the phone, read a text that you just sent me, plan to do things when I come home to visit. Help plan ways to change our lives, the girl’s lives. I NEED YOU BOTH SO MUCH!

This is not meant to be my life. My greatest accomplishment has always been being your sister. That’s how I’ve always identified myself. Constantly saying, “I have two brothers…”, “My brothers…”, “When I was growing up my brothers…”, “I’m the baby with two older brothers….”, “My big brothers…”, that’s who I am. I’m your sister. I’m your baby. That’s where I find peace, being your baby sister. Who am I without my brothers?

I’m lost in this dark world. Literally, I’m surrounded by darkness and my mind is so heavy. It’s like these nights last a lifetime. I’m scared, I’m lonely, my body is in so much pain and I can’t seem to get it to ease up. I see flashes of you in those last moments. It’s like I was right there beside you when it all happened. I died with you. You took me with you and now I’m just a shell of myself.

So I find myself abandoned. Unable to comprehend my surrounds. Fearing everything.

Because I Can’t Be With You

I’m tired. I’m sore. I’m angry. I’m beyond grievous.

My skin feels raw down to the bone.

It’s as if I’m bathing in a tub of torment. I’m washing with the ache of what I should have done, what I should have said.

It keeps filling the space enclosing my soul.

When I try to rinse off the sorrow, it feels like fragments of my missing future digging in.

My life will never be how I want it.

I feel like I’m laying on my back and all these realizations are suffocating me.

The tears are so frequent that they feel like razorblades rolling out of the corner of my eyes.

I’m fighting the urge to scream out in horror, in anxious pain.

I rock back and forth, trying to figure out these thoughts that are beating my brain.

How can they be true?

My belly is gorged with rage.

This…this…this has happened. This is happening right now.

These feelings don’t leave, they argue with each other.

Rational thoughts fly out the window when I wake from a dream of being with you.

Because I can’t be with you.