Memory

In NY this weekend with my parents to visit my grandparents’ graves.

So hard to see my parents remember theirs.

Sunshine sits in her carseat, kicking her little legs. My parents say prayers and wipe tears as I watch from a distance.

Photo

Thought I’d take a break from my regularly scheduled programming of mourning/griping/sadness to post a new picture of the cuteness that is my daughter.

Change

Yesterday I called to talk to my brother-in-law but instead I got the answering machine.  He had finally changed the message, so that instead of hearing my sister’s voice, I heard my niece instead.

I don’t know why this upset me so much.  Things do have to change as time moves on.  It’s just really hard, moving further away from things that she was a part of…even a voice on a machine.

Serenity

I’m just trying to let it go and move on, move forward.

Sunday

Today was awful.  Worse than awful.  Miserable.

Hot as hell.

I hate watching my dad try not to sob.  It is just awful.

One of Jen’s “friends”–and I put that in quotes because this woman is a real douche and has always made her friendship with Jen out to be way more than it really was–was asked by my mom not to bring her kids and I’m not going to go into detail as to why this request was made.  It’s just too long and involved to explain.  But the request was made after my parents talked it over with my BIL (brother-in-law) to make sure everyone was on the same page and that all parties were cool with it.  So when this woman hears that her kids aren’t wanted (nothing against the kids, really, they are very sweet), she calls my BIL and gets him to say yes, no problem, bring the kids.  This, of course, angers my parents.  Really, the whole thing is so disrespectful.  I mean, if you are a “friend,” then respect the family of the person who you were such good friends with.  What this woman did was so selfish and of course it drove a rift between my parents and my BIL.  It made for a VERY uncomfortable day.  My BIL was angry, my parents were angry and I’m kind of in the middle of it all, except I really think my BIL thinks I’m on my parents side and sees me as a possible enemy.

This whole thing is tearing my family apart.  And all I can do is stand by and watch.  It is truly awful and I think that Jen would be absolutely appalled if she were alive to see what is happening.

I need some guidance from her, an idea of what to do.  I’m so lost.  I don’t know where to begin.  I’m terrified my BIL is going to move really soon and that I’m going to lose both of them–him and my niece–forever.

Letter

Dear Jen,

Tomorrow is your unveiling.  I have been dreading this day even more than your one year death date and honestly, I’m not sure I understand why.  Maybe it’s because I prefer to grieve in private, and this is a very public event.  True, it’s only just our family–me, Kyle, Sunshine, Rob, Ashley, Mom, Dad and all the cousins we love (not the ones we can’t stand, ha ha, you know who I’m talking about) but even so…it’s going to be a lot for me to handle.

You always hear that death is more about the living than the dead.  I have no idea where that saying came from but it is so true, although I wonder if that wherever you are, you are hurting like we are in that you miss us as much as we miss you.  I know you were angry and scared to die because you didn’t want to leave any of us, especially your young daughter and your husband whom you loved so, so much.  In one of the dreams I had about you recently, I saw you and him together and he was sobbing.  The day we buried Uncle Michael next to you was the first time I’d seen tears from Rob since the day you died.  I’m sure he cried at your funeral and/or burial but I was so blinded by my own tears, I didn’t see much of anything for weeks.

I can still see the image in my mind of all of us sitting around your hospital bed after you had taken your last breaths and the doctors and nurses tried to resuscitate you but you were gone.  They made us leave the room so they could remove your tube and all the needles and we sat around you, holding your hands.

I rubbed you hand with my thumb until I felt it begin to grow cool and pale, as the blood drained from your veins. Then, all of the sudden I didn’t want to be there anymore and I left with Kyle and Rob. It was awful and surreal to trudge out of the hospital toward the car.  Rob carried your things.

What purpose does this serve, rehashing these moments?  None. But they are burned in my head and my heart. I wonder if a day will come when I can’t feel my heart tighten when one of these images flashes in my mind.  Because today while I was driving home from the kennel with the dogs, it is this exact scene I relived and it brought me to tears.

Love, me.

Today

I’ve been away for a few days, visiting my in-laws with my husband and daughter.  I realized yesterday that I needed to get away and recharge before this weekend, so the impromptu trip was well-timed.

Last night on the way home from dinner with my husband…

God, I don’t want to do this thing on Sunday.

Besides the obvious, why not?

Because I know I’m going to cry, and I don’t want to cry in front of everyone. As I say this I start to sob.

It’s ok to cry in front of everyone.

It may be ok to cry but I just don’t want to.  And I know I won’t be able to control it.  Last night was the first time I’ve cried in front of my husband in a long time.  My husband. It just doesn’t feel right showing my pain to others.  It’s too exposed.

I dreamed about Jen two nights in a row while we were away.  Vivid dreams, where I hugged her and talked to her and sobbed into her shoulder and missed her fiercely.  She’s never alive in my dreams.  I mean, she may be moving and talking but I always know she is dead, that I will never see her again, that we are having our final words together.

I’d give anything for just one more time.  One more hug.  One more time holding her hand.  One more of something involving her smiling face and voice that is so similar to mine.  When I call her house to listen to her answering machine, just so I can hear her voice, it’s like I’m listing to myself talk.

The lonliness is overwhelming.

Finality

My dad sent me a picture of the finished headstone.  It will be shipped here this week and put in at the gravesite, along with the bench we’ve chosen.

Talking to my mom on the phone the other day…

Did Dad send you the email with the picture?

Uh huh…trying to fight back tears so she doesn’t hear me cry

It’s pretty…

Yeah…

What I really feel is absolutely sick, with a giant pit in my stomach.  I don’t want to be gathered around my sister’s grave next week while a rabbi says a prayer and we all mumble along.  I want to be sitting with her on a couch or eating sushi together.  We used to have sushi once a week, a mostly standing lunch date, depending on circumstances.

I want to yell and scream and get mad at something but I don’t have anything to hurl my rage towards.  Cancer doesn’t get that I’m mad.  Cancer doesn’t feel a thing.  It just takes and takes and ruins, leaving broken hearts and families in its path.

I can taste my salty tears as they slide down my cheeks and drip into the corners of my mouth.

Feeling

Was thinking yesterday how angry I still am that Jen died.  Just so fucking pissed at whatever led this to happen.

I’ve been in contact recently with someone from a long time ago.  Her brother died about a week after Jen did last year and we’ve been talking about our experiences, how they are different but so similar at the same time.  Yesterday she wrote to me and said I definitely think it is a process that never ends, it just gets less intense over the years.

I understand where she is coming from, and maybe at another point in time I will agree with that statement, but right now I don’t.  It seems impossible to fathom that I will ever get used to this, ever feel less strongly about it, ever hurt less, miss Jen less.  My life will continue and swirl around me, change and grow and move on, but I think that I will forever have a pit in my stomach and a lump in my throat and a tiny hole in my heart.

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