I walked into my uncle’s apartment, a small one bedroom place, to an overcrowded room full of grieving broken hearted loved ones and friends. People were everywhere crying, teardrops cascading down their faces like flowing rivers. Most of the other people were embracing and hugging each other so tight, not wanting to let go of each other. Lots of used tissues, rolled into balls, were strewn all over the tables and furniture, clouds of cigarette smoke moving in slow motion through the air, and empty beer cans were all over the place. My uncle was sitting at the table wearing his big blackened out sunglasses drinking a beer and trying to wash away the pain. Men weren’t supposed to break down and cry he thought, until now after losing his first born daughter.

I start thinking about earlier today when I received the call. It was August 18, 2005. I got the call, the call nobody ever wants to get, ever. There had been a bad accident on route 24 North, near exit 10. My aunt Alice said “Falon’s gone she didn’t make it.” “No, I cried,” this can’t be true! I didn’t want to believe it, and I didn’t really believe it right then, until later on when everyone had gathered at my uncle’s.

I broke down and cried like I have never cried before. I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes were blood shot, red rimmed and full of tears, snots were running down my face and my mouth was quivering while my body was shaking. I keep looking in the mirror thinking to myself, “How do I deal with this?” Just seventeen days ago had been one of the happiest days of my life. I had given birth to my son Alex, and now I was dealing with the loss of someone who meant everything to me. I was feeling consumed by grief and a broken heart as reality was sinking in. How can this be? This loss is unlike any I have ever known, it’s so intense, like a part of me has been stolen, a part that I can never get back, the loss of my cousin, my sister, and my best friend, that is who Falon was to me.

Everyone was talking about Falon and their memories of her remembering fun and happy times. I started having flashbacks instantly, at an accelerated rate of speed, like a rapidly moving slide show starting with my earliest memories of her, the times we spent together and all of the conversations we ever had up to three weeks ago, the last time I saw her. She had come over to take my daughter and I out to breakfast and we ended up at a little Portuguese restaurant. Falon made me laugh the whole time during breakfast, she had a comedic personality. We left in her car with the windows down and the wind flowing through our hair listening to Kid Rock music on blast. Every single little memory of Falon was flashing through my head from the day she was born, until this horrific day. The intense pain and anxiety I’m feeling are making it hard for me to breathe, I feel like I’m gasping for air and can’t catch a breath. Why her? Why did God have to take Falon?

I had just turned seven years old when Falon was born and she was my baby doll just a human one. She was such a loving happy child always smiling and really smart. She was so much fun at such a young age, she was walking and talking by ten months old and potty trained fully at one and a half years old. She was always learning and trying new things like puzzles and games and we were inseparable. Our bond was growing stronger every day and we were cousins, growing up like sisters.

I was eleven years old when my uncle told me that they were moving out of state and I was depressed and heartbroken because Falon would be moving far away from me. It didn’t end up being as bad as I imagined because my uncle came down often and stayed at our apartment for weeks at a time. We would spend all our time together and I was like her big sister. I always let her brush my hair because it felt so good. It put me in a catatonic state of relaxation, where sometimes I would actually doze off. I used to let her put makeup on me too it was fun when she was around I liked having those things done. We would also play Barbie dolls and use whatever objects we could to make pretend Barbie houses and watch Punky Brewster episodes while hanging out in my room. Falon, actually dressed up as Punky Brewster for Halloween that year. We grew up and inherited the nicknames Tami bag and Falon bag, we acted like gossiping old bag ladies so they called us that because we were always in someone’s business. I guess she learned a lot from me. Don’t get me wrong, I was a good kid I was just very outspoken and liked to talk and say whatever I wanted to say around my family. Falon was a sponge absorbing it and learning more everyday and by this time we were cousins, who grew up like sisters, who then became best friends. I know, it might seem unreal because I am a lot older than she was but she was my best friend and more we did everything together. She was with me while I was learning how to drive a car.” Falon be quiet, I need to concentrate,” I would say, as the car was jerking back and forth, while my foot was pounding the gas and then the brakes.

Falon grew up and became a very responsible young woman and I was proud of her, I knew she had learned a lot of the responsibility from me. We were alike in so many ways. She was a great person and always looking to help someone like I always did. I can go on and on because of our history and tell you a thousand more stories regarding the bond I shared with Falon and the memories we had together but I will only tell you one more about my daughter and Falon.
I had my first child, and Falon was also a big part of my daughter Desiree’s life too. We were cousins who grew up like sisters, then became best friends and now she was my babysitter. She was great with my daughter she would play with her and read to her and my daughter loved her very much. My daughter got to experience the joys of knowing and loving her too. They had a strong bond and connection, until that fateful day when my heart broke. The call that Falon didn’t survive the accident ruined my life and tore my world apart to the point I no longer feel like a whole person. To this day nobody knows how it happened or saw anything and there were no other cars involved. I remember the weather that day hazy hot and humid. I wish I knew what happened. Why she was taken from us?

Every moment and every memory keep playing out like a movie in my head, rewind, replay, fast forward and pause over and over the cycle repeats. I don’t want to forget a single moment with Falon because I can never get those moments back. I just wish I knew why this happened. The only thing I do know is that two days later she talked to my daughter in my daughter’s dream. My daughter came and woke me up and said “mama, mama, Falon talked to me in my dream.” I woke up instantly and asked her what Falon said? My daughter had just turned five, two months before this. She said Falon told her she loves and misses us, even your father too, meaning my daughter’s father. She told my daughter to give my son a hug from her and she’s sorry she didn’t get to see him. She’s also said she’s sorry she has to go now. I wrote this all down as I was asking my daughter what she said. I wanted to know more so I asked my daughter what Falon was wearing in her dream? My daughter said she was wearing black clothes, then I asked her how was Falon’s hair? She said it was up in a messy bun. We didn’t know the details of her appearance the day. When I talked to my uncle and told him what happened with my daughter he told me that’s what she was wearing and how she had her hair.

Time has gone by and nothing gets easier I still feel the same as I did that day Mrs. Pappas and it hasn’t eased. The only solace I have is knowing that she came through in my daughter’s dream because of the bond we all shared, love, family, and friendship. I know I will never have this connection with anyone else because she is irreplaceable. We were cousins who grew up like sisters and then became best friends.