Jimmy.

R.I.P Jimmy "The Rev" Sullivan
February 9th, 1981 - December 28th, 2009

This journal comes a bit late, I know that. But up until now, I haven't had the words to fully describe what I'm feeling as a result of Jimmy's passing. I still don't have them all, and I don't know that I ever will. What I do know is that I need to talk about it, or it'll eat me alive.

At 11:30 P.M on December 28th, 2009, I learned that the drummer for my favorite band was dead. I was on a bus riding back from a hockey game when my friend, who is a fan of the band as well but not a die-hard follower, texted me. As soon as I saw the words, "Whoa, what happened to The Rev?" on my screen, I knew he was gone. I don't know why or how, but I knew that Jimmy had moved on. I asked her what she meant, and she forwarded the tweet from Papa Roach to me, stating that "This is a sad day for rock and roll. RIP Jimmy 'The Rev' Sullivan. You will be greatly missed, my friend."

At that moment, dread consumed me. It felt as though my worst, and initial, fear had been confirmed. I desperately asked my friend to check Avenged's MySpace and Zack's website. I wanted so badly to be wrong; I wanted it to be a joke, a prank. Some sick fuck had hacked an account and posted that Jimmy was dead. As we all know now, it wasn't a joke.

A few minutes later, my friend texted me, "I'm so sorry hun." I burst into tears on the bus, the people around me looking at me. I felt like I was going to be sick, that's how shocked I was when she sent me the tweet from A7X's Official Twitter and told me that it was all over their MySpace. The rest of the ride home was filled with tears and disbelief, my friend trying to console me and the girl I was sitting next to holding me as I cried.

By the time we got home, numbness had set in. I got off the bus and walked to my car, my dad waiting for me. I set my stuff in the backseat and got in next to my dad. He asked if I had everything and I nodded yes. He asked if I was okay, and I nodded no. He asked me what was wrong, and I distinctly remember murmuring, before I burst into tears yet again, that "The Rev is dead." My dad, the man who always teased me for loving the band but always really knew he liked them and how much they meant to me, looked at me in shock. He asked, "What? How? He's too young!" That's when I broke down yet again and cried on my dad's shoulder as he held me, listening to my rambling and sobbing.

Somewhere in the five minutes that we sat there, my brother called me. My brother is sixteen years old, just a few months younger than myself. Five years ago, when I first started listening to Avenged, my brother didn't much like them. He would listen to them, but only because I would make him when we were in the car. That changed once he actually gave them a chance and listened to their music. My brother has come to love Avenged Sevenfold, not as much as I do, but he loves them nonetheless. Coincidentally, his favorite member has always been.... The Rev. When he called, there were tears in his voice.

"Heather, he's dead!" he exclaimed, tears making his voice tremble. I knew he was crying. I know what he sounds like when he's crying. I told him I knew, and he just started bawling, asking me how and why. "Why? How? He can't be, Heather. Jimmy can't be dead." For the first time in my life, I couldn't answer my little brother's questions. I'm not God. I don't know why Jimmy left when he did.

Once I got home, I cried in my dad's arms for at least two hours, before finally going to bed. I awoke the next morning with a picture of Jimmy, with his dates, on my desk. My brother had drawn it for me.

Tears, smiles, lots of writing, memories, and music have filled the time since Jimmy passed. It all still seems surreal. I know it's real, though, and I'm coming to terms with that. I never got to meet Jimmy, but the man has inspired me, like he inspired so many others. I am more determined than ever to finish my stories and to continue writing, because it's what I love. Jimmy did what he loved, and I know he would want that for all his fans, friends, and family. In addition, I've finally really learned the meaning of 'Seize the day'. If someone like Jimmy, who was loved by so many and was truly an angel in disguise, can be taken away in an instant, who's to say that I can't be? Life here on Earth isn't guaranteed. We don't know when our time will come to an end.

As a result of that realization, I'm going to live the rest of my life living the way I want to. I want to do what truly makes me happy, no matter what other people think. If I spend my whole life worrying about what others think, I'm going to die never having been truly happy.

Along with a new perspective on life, I've gained an understanding from my dad about how much this band truly means to me. I think that seeing me cry over Jimmy, someone I never even had the chance to meet or to know, really hit my father. I think it made him see that this band and its member are so much more to me than just a fad. I've been talking for years about getting a deathbat tattoo, and my father surprised me the other day asking, "So Heather, where are you going to get that tattoo?" That deathbat tattoo is my 18th birthday present, coming up in September. I just want to say thank you, Dad, for seeing how important this band is to me.

I also plan on getting a tattoo in memory of Jimmy. My deathbat tattoo will be on my right hip, so my Jimmy memorial is going on my left. Jimmy's tattoo will be an outline of the deathbat, the symbol of the band he helped to create, with 'The Rev' written in script and Og agus saor go deo (forever and young free) written either above and below or just below. His dates will be incorpated, as well.

Jimmy. I just don't know what to say to you. I wish I could have met you - I had so many things to say. I wanted to thank you for being who you were, who you are. Your music helped whether I was having a bad day and needed a lift, or a good day and I just needed some good music to make it even better. I'm going to be moving out to California eventually. I'm going there for college. Irvine, actually. I was planning on living in Huntington Beach at some point... I still am. The only difference is, you won't be there for me to meet. I would say I'm going to kick your skinny ass for going too soon, but I love you too much for that. Besides, you'd prolly stop me from doing so anyways. You'd probably start talking about the stallion duck you saw down at Central Park that day or how you drove past your old home, and I'd start laughing and forget all about my plans.... Anyways, I just want to say I love you, Jimmy. This isn't goodbye... it's you better save me a front row seat to all of your shows in Heaven once I meet you there, because I know that's where you are.

Rest In Peace, James. You deserve it. I'll see you in my dreams and in my afterlife.