That One Time We All Grew Up Overnight

Once upon a time, when I was 3, my parents moved our family into the most magical neighborhood a child could grow up in. There were tons of young families with kids my age, lots of neighborhood parks and trails to explore, and a huge neighborhood pool I spent every summer day at. Our neighbors weren’t just our neighbors, they became our family. My brother and I, just the two of us, were fascinated by the Moore family a few doors down, who had 5 children. Their house was always a flurry of activity, yelling, fighting, laughing, playing, push-up pops, and cable television. We had neighborhood parties together, we went on neighborhood camping trips together, we did everything together. Their house blurred into ours, and their mom and dad became our mom and dad too. I still remember their landline phone number I dialed it so often to see if they could play, or if their mom had a cup of sugar my mom could borrow. There were spankings, and scoldings, but mostly there was love and a fierce loyalty amongst them.

Me and my bro with Callie, Riley, and Caydee Moore.

One morning, in the middle of my junior year of college, my mom woke up, went out to get the paper, and noticed the Moores’ paper hadn’t been picked up yet. We were so attuned to our neighbors, that this tiny detail sent off warning bells, and my mom called Mrs. Moore to see if everything was ok. It was not. I got a message in the middle of my history lecture, letting me know that one of the Moore girls had died by suicide. I gathered my things, walked out of that class, and drove 2.5 hours straight to Wichita. Everyone was devastated, and the grief was thick. All the neighbors worked around the clock providing food, toiletries, and other essentials as the Moore family navigated this new, horrific landscape.

But that horrific landscape, they soon found, would become their new home. Dad fell into a deep depression, and became a chemically dependent stranger leading to divorce, job loss, and multiple suicide attempts over the years. I was always a bit jealous of the Moore kids’ relationship with their dad, Rich. It was obvious he worshiped his children, and Callie could always get mall spending money out of him by batting her eyes. Don’t get me wrong, he’d whoop their ass if they were out of line, but mostly he was just a big, lovable, fun-loving guy, with a sparkle in his eye. I haven’t seen him since a very brief encounter at my brother’s wedding 6 years ago, but the stories I hear about him are heart-breaking - a shell of the man I once knew, never recovered from his daughter’s death, living in an assisted living facility, barely over 60.

I went over to see the Moores today. Their dad is on life support after another attempt on his own life, odds not in his favor this time. His 4 remaining children have to make the immensely difficult decision to pull the life support plug or not. Once again, in the middle of the day, I received a text from my mom, stating all these facts. I just kept thinking over and over again how that one decision, 13 years ago, has decimated this family. And then I showed up on their doorstep - cookies, cake, and ice cream in hand, homemade and sent by my mom, as moms do - and did not see a decimated and broken family. I saw 4 siblings, who hadn’t been in the same place at the same time together in over 4 years, laughing, talking shit on each other, and acting exactly as I remember them all acting when we were all in elementary and middle school. It was strange to see what appeared to be such nonchalance from them all, drinking Bud Lights and spewing insults at each other in the most loving sibling way possible, but it was also the most normal thing I could have expected from them at such a time. It was almost comforting to see that this trauma-laden family has changed so much, and yet not at all.

I kept thinking of the movie “Life Itself” and this quote at the end, “Life brings you to your knees. It brings you lower than you think you can go. But if you stand back up and move forward, if you go just a little farther, you will always find love.” This family has had to live more fucked up shit than anyone should have to live, but amidst all that hurt and pain and anger, there is love. They keep picking back up and moving on, with families and babies of their own now. Riley said, “Sometimes I feel like I take one step forward and then fall flat on my face, and then when I get back up everyone is 8 steps ahead of me,” but he still gets back up. As my brother and I turned to say good-bye I saw the first tears any of the Moore kids had shed in front of me today, and it broke my heart. They will always be a piece of me. In spite of the tears though, I know that this family will get through this, just as they’ve gotten through everything else the universe has thrown at them. Because that’s just what they do.

I know that times can get tough. I’ve struggled with depression, and have been on and off anti-depressants through the years, but seeing the toll Cori’s death took on her family, I knew once and for all I could never do what she did. I know that now, more than ever, people are struggling and wrestling with these invisible, but all-too-real demons. Riley, in his wisdom-beyond-his-years said, “Dad cried wolf so many times it was hard to believe him, but it was when he got quiet that we should have really been listening.” Be kind. Be supportive. Be present. Though this particular family is banding together and making it through, they have deep and painful scars that they will bear forever.