There is nothing we can do. How do I hate those six words, let me count the ways... You sit and wait and wait some more in agony and torment, knowing it's only going to get worse. Well meaning people say the stupidest things. And you want to punch them in the mouth, hard, but it doesn't help. You scream, wail, and buck against everyone and everything around you. Nothing and no one can help. Not even the Almighty. No amount of begging and pleading before Him helps change His mind. He comforts you, and you may even let Him, for a while. But then you get angry. Oh, so angry. You watch, hands tied, desperate and raging as she gets weaker and thinner and starts to fade away. Fading away from you and everyone else she loves. He's taking back His angel now, I guess she was just a loan.
You rally deep, trying desperately to find the strength to go and see her. But your knees go weak and your stomach clenches in pain. Don't crack. Don't break. Be strong for her. Don't let her see the fissures in your skin. You are crumbling, falling and breaking apart, like stinky blue cheese. But you go on pretending, cause that's what she wants. Avoid the obvious, think pos-i-tive.
Now you know for sure hearts can't really break, cause yours is still beating. Thump, thump. It just goes right on beating, mocking your pain. You feed her, bathe her, talk as soothingly as you can. Thump, thump. When you do manage to sleep, you dream about her. Happy dreams that everything is still alright and you are not living this nightmare. Thump, thump. When you first wake up, you forget for a minute. But then it all comes back, like an enormous wave pounding and crashing relentlessly on the sands of your mind. When did your nightmares, become a reality? You are failing her and you know it, but you are powerless. What can you do to help? Nothing. Not a damn thing. It breaks you. Everyone is walking on egg shells around you, because, obviously, they must. You are a fiery inferno, getting ready to spew angry, violent flames. The anger and pressure of it all is building and building and its bound to erupt soon. Time stands still and flies by.
Tick tock, tick tock. The clock keeps ticking. You're losing her. The world is ignorant. It keeps on spinning. People are laughing and loving and walking by you, oblivious. Life as you know it will never be the same. The man at the bank, says, Have a Merry Christmas! Ignorant fool. Your Christmases will never be merry again.
Something startles you in your sleep. You sit up and immediately suck in a deep, hard breath. You know it's her, and you know with a sick certainty, she's gone. She's not tethered to this world any longer and there's a void and a pain that's so great inside, it defies description. A minute later, when the phone rings, you are not surprised. He is only confirming what you already know. It's a truth you thought you had been preparing yourself for, but there is no way anyone could possibly prepare themselves for this. There are no words. There is nothing.
For the first time in your life, you oppose the Almighty. Why? Why did you have to take her back? Why now? She was so young, so talented, so genuinely good. And why her? Why leave great parents with the inferior daughter? It's senseless. But there is no answer, other than, I AM. And you have to trust that. There is no alternative. She must be there with Him. Otherwise, all hope is lost.
Let the craziness begin! Everyone has gone mad. People who love each other deeply, turn, turn, turn. You sit by, numb and useless while all the insanity starts. There is nothing left inside you anyway. Nothing. It's all gone, shelled out like a cantaloupe. Nothing left but rind. Green and rotten to the core. Sick, sick, sick. You are supposed to what? Comfort others? Are you out of your ever-loving mind? What are you supposed to say, to comfort someone else, when you are full of terror and sadness and black and nothing? Nope, sorry. You get nothing. Nothing. Because that's all you've got to give.
There is no magic time limit to your mourning, but no one cares. People spit words at you. She shouldbebetterbynow, sheneedshelp, whenwillshesnapoutofit! Their words fly around and around, buzzing by your brain, never landing on anything solid. Findanewnormal. Lifewillgoon. Timehealsallwounds. Sowhat'sfordinner? You have to hold yourself back from kicking them in the head! Never have you imagined being in so much pain, but your pain is nothing compared to what she suffered through, in silence. Not one complaint. Somehow, you feel like you have failed her, again.
All of this emotion is too much for you to feel. You wish you could just vomit it up, get rid of it. But you wouldn't, even if you could. Because if you forget the pain, you forget her. The tremendous hole that's been blasted into your family since you lost her. What do families do? How do they survive this? Yours is fractured, splintered straight down the seams. Hearts are still so broken, but you put on a happy face. Slap a smile over your psychosis. Try to act like you have gone on, went on. Meanwhile, you know it's never going to happen. Because from now on, there is always someone missing. All your pictures are off center. Every holiday, one less place at the table. Your table is full, but it still feels empty. Every day without her is empty.
You look at your nieces, those two most precious, precious, little girls. And you thank God for them. Because every single time you look into their eyes, you see your sister smiling back at you. They sound like her, look like her, smell like her. You miss her so much. You try to give them their space, but you really want to hug those girls, and never, ever, let them go. They are the part of her that's still here, what's still tangible. It's like looking into the past and the future all at the same time. And that is the one shred of hope and sanity you have to cling to.
- Jersey Shore, United States
- In case any of my friends or family members actually read this Blog, please consider all Names, Characters, Places and Incidents to be the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are entirely COINCIDENTAL...Muaaah!! Now, really, about me: I bring the crazy wherever I go, so I've been told...I make fun of myself more than anyone else ever could. I hate: the awkward silence in elevators, watches with no numbers, picky eaters, Cancer and legalism. I love: coffee, stalking Hugh Jackman, my Spanx, COMMENTS, sarcasm and writing: Middle Grade, NA, YA Paranormal and Urban Fantasy.