The need to please

I am 25 years old, and I am still afraid to “break the rules”.
I went to Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia this past Monday with my parents, my Aunt Pat and Uncle Mike, and my cousin Sarah. (And ended up running into my Aunt Janet and Scott while we were there! Small world!) Anyway, it’s a really cool little town with all kinds of shops and a lot of Civil War History. There’s a rock that you can hike up to where you can see the Shenandoah and the Potomac Rivers meet. It’s really quite beautiful. On the way back down, a little ways off the path, there are the ruins of an old Episcopal church. The path is lined with a wooden rail, but there were no signs saying that you couldn’t go under it. The ruins were open, and would have been a really awesome picture standing in the middle of it. I wanted like anything to go poke around in there, but my mother told me no. And I’m standing there, trying to decide how much trouble I would be in if I just did it. I had a fleeting thought of doing it anyway, but Sarah (who’s 12) was standing right there. She was watching me with a big grin, looking from me to my mom who was already halfway down the trail. You could just tell she was waiting to see what I was going to do. I figured I ought to set a good example and listen to my mother. So I turned and grudgingly walked down the hill, even though I so wanted to climb that rail. Emily would have crossed under the rail, the heck with good examples.

Emily… she did what she wanted and she didn’t care what the consequences were. If she wanted to look at the silly church, she would have done it, and dealt with mom later. (And the poison ivy that mom was probably right about.) She would not have cared in the slightest that Sarah was there and watching, heck- she probably would have taken Sarah with her. Me? I weigh my options, and try to think through all the possible scenarios of what will happen. How mad would Mom have gotten at me? How much trouble would I have gotten in? Can I still be grounded at 25? I think waayyy too much. Emily always lived in the moment, and worried about the repercussions later. She hated to have people mad at her, but she dealt with that after the fact. And when she messed up, she was truly apologetic. Now if she didn’t think she was wrong, she would stand her ground and wouldn’t give in. Me, I usually will let it go just to avoid a confrontation.

It’s funny how different we are. You had me who was afraid to stay out past my curfew, and then you had Emily who ran away to Missouri. I was such a goody-two-shoes it’s not even funny. I think the worst things I ever did was I smoked a few cigarettes because I was trying to impress the friends I was hanging out with… but I was over 18 so it’s not like I was even breaking the law. And they gave me a headache and aggravated my asthma. I snuck into a few bars when I was 19 or 20. I got my bellybutton pierced without telling my parents. That’s about the extent of it. I toed the line, and didn’t break the rules. I have this innate need to please. I think sometimes I spend too much time trying to fit myself into the idea of who people think I am, and not always just making who I am fit into their ideas. I’m afraid to make people mad at me because I’m afraid they won’t like me. But Emily always broke the rules. She didn't conform to anything, or try and be any one other than who she was. She made people mad at her all the time, and she still was one of the most popular people I’ve ever known. My friend Maria wrote me an e-mail a couple of weeks ago and she said something that really struck me, and has been resonating with me ever since… “You bury your feelings and thoughts deep inside you. Let some of that out (and the blog is doing that- so keep it up!) Emily wore her emotions on her sleeve and look at the number of people who still loved her (even on her bad days!) You are a wonderful and beautiful person Melissa. Let the world get to know the real you- even if it means you get hurt sometimes.”

She totally has me pegged (and she always pretty much has)… I don’t always let people see “me”, mostly because I’m afraid of getting hurt. Emily let people know exactly where they stood with her. You always knew what mood Emily was in. And believe me, she let you know if you had done something to irritate her. In some ways though, Emily did hide her deepest emotions- her anxieties about her diabetes, and her many insecurities. But for the most part, Maria was right- she did wear her heart on her sleeve. And people did love her on her bad days. Emily had more confidence than I think I’ll ever have. She used to get so mad at me when I would put myself down. And I think she was the one person who had half an idea of how much I struggled with my weight when I was a teenager. She told me all the time to stop caring what other people thought. Oh Emily, I wish I could. I wish she was here to tell me yet again to get over myself.

I’ve spent so long trying to be what other people think I should be I really don’t know who I am. Emily knew who she was, and she didn’t care if people liked it or not. But the thing with Emily is that they did like her. Me, I’m not so sure if I even like myself some days.

At Emily’s service, Diana read a self-awareness essay Emily had written for a class a few months ago. Today was the first time I’ve been able to actually read it. For all my rambling thoughts, I think this pretty much says it all.

“I am me.

I have good qualities and bad. I get upset easily. I get attached quickly. I have a quick temper. I care too much sometimes. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I have a tendency to take my bad mood out on others. I'm insecure and need reassurance a lot. I cry at the drop of a hat. I speak before I think. I've done things I am not proud of. I don't take care of myself like I should sometimes.

I love with all my heart. My friends and family are my everything. I laugh when no one else is 'cause I remember something funny from awhile back. I am finally learning to trust people again. All I want to do is help people. I'm stubborn, but sometimes I know my limits. I have a huge heart.

But overall? I am who I am. I like me and it's taken me 20 years to admit it. What you see is what you get and I'm not changing for anyone. It's up to me to live my life and I'm the only one in control.

So take me as I am....or don't take me at all. It's your loss if you don't.”

I could never be just like Emily—and to be perfectly honest I never thought I would want to be. But she found something in herself that I haven’t found yet. And I admire her for that. She accepted herself, her faults and flaws, and her strengths as well. I think I will always have a tendency to be a people-pleaser. But I want to get to the place where Emily was and be able to say, “this is me, this is who I am, and I like it,” and not try and conform to expectations of who or what I should be. The only One I really need to worry about pleasing is God. As long as He likes me, that’s really all that matters. But all that being said, He probably wouldn’t have wanted me to get poison ivy either, so I suppose that’s why He gave us mothers. :)

Coping

you manage a smile through the tears
you try and withstand the pain
you wait for the days to pass
you slowly begin to live again

you find yourself writing
it’s the only way to cope
and in the words you pour out your heart
trying to find a measure of hope

you thank God for the laughter
the memories she left behind
you stare at every photograph
memorizing each one you find

you tell yourself Love never dies,
or at least that’s what they say
but something inside your heart
died along with her that day

you find yourself laughing
at silly memories of the past
you catch yourself wishing
you hadn’t let the years go by so fast

you miss her more every day
a piercing longing in your heart
you move through the grief
that increases each day you’ve been apart

sometimes it’s overwhelming
and then it lessens each day
sometimes it goes the opposite direction
and you feel you’ve lost your way.

but ultimately God's grace keeps you going
His comfort is greater than the pain
and each new day that dawns
He’s there for you all over again.

A Random Photo

I came across this on my computer, and I found myself staring at it forever....maybe it was her smile, maybe it was just because she loved the beach... but something about it just makes me miss her all the more.

Shoes

In Her Shoes is probably one of my all-time favorite movies. For so many reasons. One- it was about sisters. Two, it was about shoes. And I LOVE shoes. Mom often jokes that she should have named me Imelda. Three- because of that movie Emily gave me the best gift I’ve ever received. Four, more than just a movie about sisters- it was a movie that could have been about us. The basic story is about two sisters- the somewhat un-cool, slightly bossy, take-charge, picking up the pieces older sister, and the pretty, popular, carefree, irresponsible younger sister. And as I watched this movie, the parallels between the characters and Emily and I were unbelievable. It was like they had peeked into our lives and put it on the big screen. And I remember thinking to myself that Emily, in her oblivion to all things subtle, probably hadn’t even picked up on it.

I won’t spoil the ending of the movie, but in one of the last scenes, the younger sister recites a poem to her older sister by ee cummings, titled “i carry your heart.” That had both of us crying. ee cummings is one of my favorite poets, and that particular poem is beautiful. Now, fast forward a few months to Christmas morning. Emily made me open her gift first, and I still remember the look on her face. It was excited, yet hesitant and fearful- like she was afraid I was going to hate it. I opened the box, and Emily had gotten my grandmother to write that poem in calligraphy, and had it framed with pictures of the two of us. I saw it, and I burst into tears. Heaving sobs was more like it. I was beautiful. To my chagrin, I underestimated Emily. She got the point of the movie… probably even more than I did. That picture is one of my most treasured possessions. It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.


I wrote earlier that I love shoes. I wanted to see the movie just because it was about shoes. . Emily always teased me about my love of shoes, and the many, many pairs I had. I’ve got more than I really know what to do with. But about a year ago- the teasing suddenly stopped. You want to know why? Emily got a job at Payless Shoes. That came with a 20% employee discount. See where I’m going with this? Suddenly, Emily fell in love with shoes too. I counted hers- she had me beat by at least 10 pairs. And to add insult to injury, because of the fact that my feet are four sizes bigger than hers, I can’t even wear any of them. But back to the movie- the older sister has closets full of shoes. I was practically drooling in the theater as I thought about how awesome it would be to have a whole closet just of shoes. Emily thought it was hysterical. But what gets me, especially now, is the deeper meaning behind what those shoes in the movie represented. About how neither sister really put themselves in the other’s place- in the other sister’s shoes.
And I realized that I’ve never really even tried to put myself in Emily’s. I spent a lot of time telling her what I thought she should do, and fussing at her when she didn’t do it, and not understanding why she wouldn’t do it. To me it was black and white- you take your medicine, and you don’t eat the things you shouldn’t. But Emily was not a black and white person- she was colored with all the shades of gray in between. And while it seemed black and white to me, I never really put myself in her place. I never put myself in her shoes. I never thought about how hard it must have been for her on a daily basis. She made some bad choices… but I never stopped to think about the reasons why she wasn’t taking care of herself properly- all I knew is that she wasn’t. What it all comes down to is that I’ve never fit into Emily’s shoes- physically or emotionally.

Sisters come in so many different ways. I’ve said it before, that Emily and I had a rough time the last few years. We were close- but only in certain areas. We confided in each other, but we both had our secrets and kept things back. It didn’t bother me that I wasn’t the one that Emily confided in. We just didn’t have that relationship. But I think it drove her nuts that I didn’t tell her everything. Irrational, yes; but in Emily-land it made perfect sense. It was different because it was her.
In many ways, my cousin Lauren is like another sister. We’re a lot alike, and she understands me in a way that a lot of people don’t. Mainly because I let her- because I don’t shut her out like I do most people. The way I often did to Emily. I never used those words to describe Laurie in front of Emily, because I knew it would hurt her. As many shades of gray she was, some things were black and white. In Emily’s mind, sisters were sisters, and friends were friends. You didn’t have friends who were sisters. In the same way that I never understood Emily, Emily in turn didn’t always understand me. I saw things in shades of gray. I wasn’t like Emily and had a whole group of friends I was close with. I have friends, but only a very few people I really confide in. I never thought of them as sisters in place of Emily, but in addition to her. And I could never make her understand that there was no one that could take her place in my heart. The difference between Emily and Lauren is that Lauren doesn’t usually see the “bad” side of me. Emily did, more often that I’m proud to admit, and she still loved me. Because that’s what sisters do… She wasn’t always my friend, but she always was and always will be my sister. And as much as I love Laurie, and as close as we are, she's a different kind of sister.

When I was at Lauren’s house, we watched In Her Shoes together. I had told Lauren about Emily’s gift, and I wanted her to see the movie. I wanted her to see why it was so special. And I am so thankful that we watched it on that last day before I came home. Because it brought back such happy memories, and in a way… I was remembering the good parts of Em, instead of dwelling on some of the bad. And the funny thing is, I remember telling Lauren, “I can’t tell Emily that I watched this with you. She’d have a fit!” I think she would have seen it as a betrayal, sharing “our” movie. Diana was so right- Emily was fiercely possessive of things that were considered “ours”. But when I watch that movie, Emily is the only sister I’m thinking about. I may think of Laurie as another sister, but there are some things that were just mine and Emily’s. Lauren sent me a card after Emily died, and she wrote about how glad she was that we watched that movie together- that it showed her the special bond sisters had, and how despite the fights and arguments, that bond stayed strong. Which is the whole reason why I wanted her to see it so badly. I wanted Lauren to see that in spite of all the times that I complained about Emily, there was such a wonderful side of her too.

So I hope Emily understands, and forgives me for sharing “our” movie. And for never taking the time to try and walk a little ways in her shoes. And I hope that she knows that the countless pairs of shoes that are still downstairs remind me that she has forever left shoes that no one could ever possibly fill.

The trips not taken, and scrapbooks not finished...

My cousin Sarah was here over the weekend, and she brought her Nintendo Wii along with her. (I’m typing this much slower today because I think I strained my fingers pushing all those buttons.) I am 25 years old, and can count on one hand the number of times I have actually played a video game. We didn’t have one growing up…. and actually, neither of us were really that interested in them. We were too busy with our noses stuck in books. I used to play with my cousin Jeffrey when we went to visit them… but I never really wanted my own. Probably because I was really bad at it!!
And as I was playing with Sarah this weekend…. I realized that I am still really bad at it!

The last time we were all at the Berg’s, I think it was for Sarah’s birthday. She had gotten the “Dance, Dance, Revolution” game for her Wii, and we were all having way too much fun with this thing. I think that there may still be some video footage floating around somewhere. *shudder*. Emily and I decided that we wanted one, and we wanted the dance game. We talked about buying one together and sharing it.
I had forgotten about it until I was playing with Sarah. The Wii was just another thing that we had talked about and never got around to doing.

There were a lot of things like that. We were going to take a trip to Canada and see Niagra falls. We were going to go to Ocean City for a girls weekend… it’s so close and neither of us have ever been. We were going to go to a club and go dancing. We had an endless list of movies we still wanted to see. We talked about it, and never got around to it. We were too busy, gas was too expensive, we realized neither of us can dance… all kinds of excuses to put it off.

Life is way too short for excuses. I wish I had made the time to do those things.

When Emily graduated from high school, I wanted to make her a scrapbook of pictures of the two of us. She graduated in 2005. It is 2008 and it is still half-finished. I never gave it to her. The only thing that makes me feel better is knowing that at least she saw it. She was always going through my stuff. For once I’m grateful she was a snoop. But I wish I had finished it and had given it to her. Now, I can’t quite decide if I will finish it at all.

Maybe I’ll leave it like it is as a reminder that life is too short to wait for the things that matter.

Bittersweet moments

I think I've discovered what "bittersweet" actually feels like. I mean, I've heard the word used a million times, and I know the definition. There's knowing what it means, and then there's knowing what it is.
It's the moment that causes your heart to break into pieces, and then have them put back together. Your heart is whole, but you still see the scars. That's what bittersweet is.

I did in fact go to see the latest "Chronicles of Narnia" movie tonight with Emily's friends. And she would be so proud of me- me, the dork who is usually in bed by nine thirty is actually still awake and going strong at 3:30 AM. I can be fun, who knew?!

I missed her tonight. The last movie we saw together, we saw the trailer for this one. It was a movie we wanted to see. I added it to my list that she always made fun of me for. I missed her when as usual, I made sure Diana and I got to the theater way earlier than we needed to. I missed her when we walked into a practically empty theater and the infamous words came out, "Dang, where on earth are we gonna sit?". It was our running joke. I said it everytime, and everytime, Emily rolled her eyes at me. But it was our little ritual. And you know what... it felt okay to say it tonight. I wasn't sure I ever could again, but it was... well, bittersweet.
It hurt to realize that she's not here to share our little jokes, but it was a relief to discover that I can still go without her. I was afraid I'd never be able to go again, because the movies was our "thing". But it was fun tonight. It was fun to drool over the extremely handsome actor with Diana, and think about what Emily would have said. It was fun hanging out at the Wafflehouse afterwards until three in the morning. It was fun to laugh and joke with everyone. She was missing, but she was there if that makes sense.

I'll never walk into a theater without thinking of her. I imagine there are going to be so many more bittersweet moments like tonight. But they don't hurt nearly as much as I thought they would.

Letter to Emily

So they say this is supposed to help, writing a letter. I think it’s kind of silly, it’s not like you’re going to read this, but someone obviously went to school for a very long time to come up with ideas and methods like this, so I’ll give it a shot. Not that you ever really put much stock into what those head-shrinky people had to say anyway, but what the heck…

So obviously, I miss you more than anything. I find myself thinking that the semester is ending and any day now you’ll be walking through the door, dragging in all the laundry that’s been festering on your floor. I keep forgetting that we’ve already done all the laundry that was indeed festering on your floor. And it hurts when I realize that you’re never coming back.

I kept a lot of your clothes. Girl, you have good taste. When did you start trading hoodies and baggy jeans for “grown-up clothes.” Shoot, if I’d known that I’d have started going through your closet in payback for all the times you raided mine.

Your room still looks like you left it, like it’s waiting for you to come back. Except I did make your bed. But your dresser drawers are still hanging half open with clothes spilling out all over the place. God, I really do miss you.
There are so many things I keep wanting to tell you. Little, insignificant things. That my boss is being a jerk. That I got another car. That I get to be the official journal writer/travel blog writer during the trip to Poland. That I got that silly text messaging plan finally. That I caught up to you and now I have four tattoos too. I don’t know if I can ever get another one… because you can’t “even the score” again. For once, I don’t want to win.

I saw that the movie “27 Dresses” is out on DVD. We wanted to go see that movie, but we never managed to get to that one. I wonder if you got to see it. I want to rent it, but at the same time I don’t want to watch it without you.

Speaking of movies… the second movie in the Chronicles of Narnia is out in theaters this weekend. Brandon is getting a movie group together to go see it on Saturday. If they end up going to a late show since I have to work, I’m going to go. I almost said no… but in a way, I think it will be good to go with your friends. It’s funny--- you never really wanted to hang out with any of my friends. But you always included me with yours. To the point where I consider them to be my friends too. And that was always okay with you. But it is just going to be so weird without you there. Remember the last time we went? I think it was to see the Pirates of the Caribbean. We got into a HUGE fight in the parking lot. And I finally said I was going home, and that Brandon or Diana could take you home after the movie because I wasn’t going to sit and snipe with you all evening. I don’t think you really believed that I’d do it, until I got into the car and turned it on. Remember how you made me so mad that I screamed at you at the top of my lungs in the middle of the parking lot? I think I finally scared you. And then… it was all okay, like nothing had ever happened. It is so hard to stay mad at you.
This sucks Emily. There’s no other word for it. It really, truly, beyond a shadow of a doubt, sucks.

That time you were in the hospital back in November scared me more than anything ever in my life. That morning that you called me at work, telling me you were throwing up and wanted me to bring you some stomach medicine, I was annoyed. It never crossed my mind something else might be wrong, I just figured you were… well, being the hypochondriac you could be sometimes. I told you to lay down and call me in an hour or so if you didn’t feel better. Right as I was hanging up, it’s like a light bulb clicked on in my head and I SWEAR I heard a voice say, “Melissa you need to ask her what her blood sugar is.” And when I asked you, and you said that half an hour before it was 570, I almost flipped. When I told you to test it again and it had gone up to 585, I told you to call an ambulance. You must not have been thinking clearly, because you wouldn’t. And by that time I wasn’t thinking clearly, and I should have called. Instead I rushed up to Shippensburg like a mad woman. I was easily going 95 mph on the interstate. I still didn’t realize how bad it was until I burst into your townhouse and saw you. And smelled that unmistakable orange scent. (I hate oranges now, by the way.) That’s when I knew it was bad. And when you passed out twice on the way to the hospital, I knew it was bad. Your head dropped on my shoulder and I slapped your face to wake you up. I still don’t think you ever quite forgave me.

I still remember the chill running down my spine when the doctor said that if we had waited another hour, you would have died. I remember thanking God for nudging me to ask you about your blood sugar. Because I wasn’t even thinking.
I was so thankful you were okay. But I was so furious with you that you scared us so badly.

That day, that day I knew that this day was coming. In my heart of hearts, I think I knew that some day it would happen. I just never imagined that it would be this soon.

I’m more like you than I thought. You hated unanswered questions. Maybe that’s why you always needed to know. And now you’ve left me with so many unanswered questions. Why not again? Why didn’t I hear that voice telling me to call you Tuesday morning because I hadn’t heard from you? Why didn’t I sense that something wasn’t right? Would it have made a difference? Were you scared? Why wouldn’t you take care of yourself? Why, oh why wouldn’t you listen?

I have so many I need answers to. Because even though nothing will ever heal the hole in my heart, at least knowing some of the unknown would help. Emily, I get it. I get why you needed to know all the time. It’s the uncertainty and the unknowing that hurts so much.

I don’t want to end this little letter. How do you end? It’s not even close to being done.
So I’ll leave it open –ended. And I’ll pick up where I left off. Because I’m sure there will be a million more things I’ll want to tell you. I do almost feel like I’m writing something you’ll read.

Well I’ll be darned. I just realized what I wrote. So much for silly eh? You were wrong about one thing Emmy, I guess those head shrinky people do have a clue after all. Somewhat.

Calendar verse

I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.”
Psalm 9:1

Hmm… today’s verse from my little daily calendar is a little harder to swallow today.
I wonder if whoever wrote this particular psalm wrote it when they were happy, and had cause to thank God, or when they were in the depths of despair. Because there have been things throughtout all of this that I have been thanking God for… but have I been thanking Him with my whole heart? That would be a no…. which makes me wonder. Does He expect me to? Does He really expect my whole heart to be in it?
And then there’s the second part…. telling of all His wonderful deeds. Now that I know I haven’t been doing a very good job of. Shoot, people are lucky that I can respond to their good morning without being rude, let alone start telling them how good God has been.

But He has, that’s the thing. So why can’t I bring myself to talk about it? Why can I pour out my thoughts and feelings onto the internet, but I can’t put it into actual spoken words? Probably because it’s safe. I can write, and don’t have to worry about what someone is going to say. I can type out how good He’s been, and how much I’ve leaned on Him, and write about my faith…. because it’s easier than trying to tell someone face to face. I can edit the internet… I can’t edit a real conversation. I don’t articulate myself well in conversation. Written words are easier.
But not everyone sees this little blog… the people I work with just know that I walk around with my head kinda down and refuse to meet anyone’s eyes. Because as soon as you make eye contact, that invites people to talk. And inevitably… they’re going to say something stupid. But I’m digressing. My point is- they don’t know that my faith is my anchor. They see me with a perpetual scowl, and a curt response when they ask how I am. “Fine, thank you.” Well baloney. I’m not fine, and the fact of the matter is… they know it too. And it makes me wonder, what opportunities am I missing to tell people? No, I don’t think God expects me to be running around with a huge smile on my face, stopping people in the halls and telling them, “my sister died, but gee, God’s been so good to me.” One, God’s not that mean to expect that. Two, that’s just weird and people would definitely stay even further away than they already are. And they are staying away. In fact, a dear friend of mine yesterday asked me if I was mad at her. I guess when you have your best friend worried you’re angry with her, you have to wonder what everyone else thinks. Ouch.

I think I’m getting dangerously close to falling into one of those pity pits.

But what I want is this… I want people to have ESP. I want them to know when I need to be left alone. But I want them to know when even though I’m saying “go away,” I’m really thinking “please don’t go.” I want them to call me at 10:00 at night because I’m upset and want to talk but won’t call because it’s too late. It’s irrational, I know. But lately irrational is what I am.

Each day you...

Get up.
Scramble around to find something to wear.
Go to work.
Be productive.
Try to be productive.
Pretend to be productive.
Hope no one notices you’re really not doing much of anything.
Try and make it through without biting someone’s head off.
Attempt to have a “normal” conversation.
Laugh a little, smile a little, try not to cry.
Worry about mundane things.
Worry about the big things.
Pray- A LOT.
Simply get through the day.
Go home
Try and catch up on all the things you’ve been putting off for a month.
Finally go to bed.
Congratulate yourself that you made it through another one.
Try not to think about having to do it all over again tomorrow.

And so life goes on.

Time

I feel like time is just passing by. Or maybe I feel like I’m just waiting for time to pass…. but I just don’t know what I am waiting for. There are the “big” things this summer- my annual 4th of July trip to South Carolina… and of course, the Poland trip in August. Those things I’m excited about. It’s the weeks in between that are hard. The days like today when I swear that the clock is moving backwards. The days like today when all that stuff seems so far away, and the only thing I can think about is that I miss Emily. The days like today when I realize it’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon and I literally have not done a thing all day today except stare blindly at my computer and pretend to be doing something useful. I feel about my job now the way I feel about this town—I want to start over somewhere where I’m not reminded about Emily everywhere I go. To work somewhere where people don’t give me that “pity” look, and ask me “how are you doing?” when I know that they really don’t want to hear anything other than the expected “fine.” And even aside from that- I hate my job. Even before Emily died I hated my job. In fact, when I was at the beach the week before, I was even telling Lauren how I was finally to the point where I wanted to do something with my life, instead of being stuck at a dead-end job where I’m not really appreciated. I was talking about going back to school, and trying to discover what I want to be “when I grow up.”

But right now I’m just too tired to do anything about it. So I sit and stare blindly at a computer screen. I’m snotty to my sometimes well-meaning co-workers. And downright nasty to the ones who I feel are being stupid and insensitive. I’m tired of trying to smile when I don’t feel like it. I’m tired of making excuses, and I’m tired of being too scared to take a chance, to make a change. I’m tired of crossing off days on my calendar, and waiting for the next “big” event. I want all the days in between to be just as exciting.

Beauty From Pain

I found this song in Emily's vast, and eclectic, collection of music.
Through all of this, I've found solace in music. But what gets me about this song is that for all of the ways Em and I are so different- this song so very much could be about either of us. As soon as I listened to it, I think I know exactly why Emily has this particular song.

Beauty from Pain
Superchick

The lights go out all around me
One last candle to keep out the night
And then the darkness surrounds me
I know I'm alive
But I feel like I've died

And all that's left is to accept that it's over
My dreams ran like sand through the fists that I made
I try to keep warm but I just grow colder
I feel like I'm slipping away

After all this has passed
I still will remain
After I've cried my last
There'll be beauty from pain
Though it won't be today
Someday I'll hope again
And there'll be beauty from pain
You will bring beauty from my pain

My whole world is the pain inside me
The best I can do is just get through the day
When life before is only a memory
I wonder why God let me walk through this place

And though I can't understand why this happened
I know that I will when I look back someday
And see how You've brought beauty from ashes
And made me as gold purified through these flames

Here and I am at the end of me (at the end of me)
Trying to hold to what I can't see
I forgot how to hope
This night's been so long
I cling to your promise there will be a dawn

After all this has passed
I still will remain
After I've cried my last
There'll be beauty from pain
Though it won't be today
Someday I'll hope again
And there'll be beauty from pain
You will bring beauty from my pain

Photographs

I look through the pictures I have running on that slideshow on the left side of this blog, and as I’m watching them, it suddenly hits me that there are very few pictures of me and Emily as “grown-ups”. (haha). In fact, a lot of the recent pictures of Emily I swiped off of Diana’s facebook photo album thingy… simply because I just didn’t have that many of her that were taken recently. And I look at the photos of us wearing goofy sunglasses, or reading a book together, the first day of school pictures (including the infamous purple period… seriously Mom... Why did you let me out of the house like that!? :) all moments in everyday life capturing two little girls who were inseperable. I miss those two little girls.

Both Emily and I always claimed to hate having our picture taken. Well- that isn’t entirely true. I don’t hate it as much as I let on. And based on the endless pictures Emily took of herself, I think it’s safe to say she wasn’t as camera –shy as she pretended to be either. I don’t know who we were trying to fool- doggone it, we were cute! :)

Before all this happened, I sent Lauren and Rachel all the pictures I took from our week at the beach. When Lauren e-mailed me to tell me she had gotten them, she said the only problem was that there weren’t enough of me. Well, I’ve made a promise that from now on, never again will I fuss or complain about having my picture taken. I’ve learned just how precious a photograph can be.


I wish there were as many pictures of Emily and I now as there are from when we were little. But the photos really tell alot about us as sisters. In a weird way, I remember two very different Emilys. There's the little sister that followed me everywhere, that wanted me to read to her constantly, that sat in my lap, that put up with my bossiness and did what I told her to do with that goofy smile of hers. Then there's the little sister that was mad at the world, and hurt and struggling with depression, who suddenly didn't want to follow me everywhere, that could read on her own, that didn't want to be in the same room with me, let alone be caught dead sitting on my lap, and who told me where I could take my bossiness and stick it. That goofy smile came out alot less frequently. I think that's about when the pictures stopped. I wish I had tried harder to understand what she was going through, maybe it would have helped me understand the disease that so changed parts of her personality. But underneath all the anger and struggles, that goofy grin was still there. I see it in alot of Diana's photos. I just regret that it wasn't me anymore she was grinning at. And it's as much my fault as it was hers. And there were still those moments every once in while- just not as many. We were getting there. We were trying to meet each other on common ground, and I think both of us were starting to forgive the other. For that, I'm thankful.

So I cherish my photos- the little sister that drove me nuts, who was at times my best friend and my worst enemy. I cherish Diana's photos- the ones that show that even though I didn't always see it, she still was that same little sister. It's just that sometimes it was a little harder to find that goofy smile. But it was always there.

A typical phone call

A typical conversation from Emily, usually when I am at work:

“Good afternoon, this is Melissa.”

“HI! It’s me!”

“Hi me, what’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m bored, what are you doing?”

“Well, I’m working.”

“Oh”

“Did you need something?”

“No, not really.”

“Ok…..well….”

“so what’s new?”
“nothing since the last time you called.”

“oh”

“Em, if you don’t need anything, I really do have to get back to work.”

“Oh, ok. pause Oh, do you know what Mom is making for dinner?”

“I have no idea.”

“Oh. You should call her and tell her we should go out for dinner.”

“You call her and ask her.”

“No, she’ll do it if you call and ask her.”

“I don’t want to go out to dinner.”

“oh.”

Silence

“so what are you doing next Friday?”

“Emily, I have no idea- it’s only Monday.”

“oh”

“Why?”

“well, there’s a movie coming out that I think looks good. We should go.”

“okay- that’s over a week away. Do I have to decide now?”

“no…..”

“Em, I really have to get back to work.”

“but I’m still bored.”

“well I’m not- I’m working.”

“okay, love you bye.”

“love you too, bye.”

Ready to get off the ride....

Why is it that the days are getting harder? I’ve cried more in this past week than I did all of last month. I wonder if it’s because people are going back to their routines, and aren’t asking me anymore “how are you doing?” and I don’t have to lie and pretend that I’m fine. Maybe? I don’t know. But I’m finding that I look at the clock and I realize that it’s been a couple hours since I thought about Emily. And for those two hours or so, I don’t have that heavy weight on my chest. And then I weirdly feel guilty. I’m both looking forward to and dreading the day when Emily isn’t constantly in my thoughts. I don’t ever want to forget her, but I am so dang tired of feeling this way. How long does it go on? Does it really ever get easier? I laugh about her, and I cry about her, and some moments I am still beyond angry with her. I think I said before that this has been a rollercoaster ride.

Well, I’ve run out of barf bags, and I want to get off the rollercoaster.

Random memories of Emily

When Emily was still in elementary school, she would get on the bus, crawl into the back seat, and fall asleep on the way to school. The elementary school was the first stop, but at least once a week, Emily would be so fast asleep that she wouldn’t wake up. Our bus driver would get so mad at her because he had to go back out of his way to drop her off.

One time a couple of the high school boys got on the bus and they had obviously been drinking. Emily kept loudly asking why they smelled funny, and why they were laughing at everything. I told her to be quiet, that I’d tell her later, and then she wouldn’t quit asking why.

When I was in fourth grade, one of the junior high school boys was picking on Emily and made her cry. That afternoon, I promptly hunted him down in the neighborhood and proceeded to beat the crap out of him. Emily went to school the next day and proudly told everyone that her big sister beat up a “big boy”.

One day we were at K-Mart shopping for… “undergarments.” I was not in the mood to be shopping for these particular items of clothing anyway, and then to add to my embarrassment, I happened to see that the cutest boy in the fifth grade was just across the aisle. At that exact moment, Emily chose to hold up a size triple F and say at the top of her voice, “Here Melissa! This one has an underwire!!!”
I truly wanted to strangle her at that moment.

Four years ago Emily and I drove down to the beach house at the Outer Banks. Mom and Dad had driven down the previous week, but Em and I were only staying for one week. Anyway, I have a horrible fear of bridges and tunnels. Dad conveniently forgot to tell me that not only was there a horribly long, never ending bridge, but it went UNDERWATER. I was so mad I think I let loose a steady stream of curse words the entire time we were on that horrible piece of steel that I swear was held up by poles that were skinnier than Paris Hilton. Emily sat with her mouth open, and when I finally stopped the stream of obscenities, she called mom and dad and said, “Melissa has lost it, please help me.”

The next year, I convinced Emily to get back in the car with me, and we drove down to Sunset beach, which is a lovely, 8 hour-bridge-free-drive. When we got into North Carolina, we kept seeing these signs that said “J.R.’s”. Then we saw ones that said “JR’s Cigars”, “JR’s Dolls”, “JR’s Pottery.” We were trying to figure out what it was, and then we saw the sign that said “JR’s- the largest tourist trap in America.” Well, we couldn’t pass that up. So we stopped. And it was the largest tourist trap, filled with all kinds of junk. And Emily tried on every tacky hat in the place. I couldn’t get her out of that store.

One weekend Mom and Dad were out of town and Diana came over to spend the night. We got snowed in, and she stayed all weekend. We spent two whole days watching episode after episode of Friends.

At Grandma and Grandpa’s 50th wedding anniversary party, I had one too many Midori Sours, and was starting to act a little goofy. I accidentally sat on the box that had the leftover cake in it. Everyone looked horrified for a second, probably afraid that I was going to get mad, but after I started laughing- Emily opened the box and said, “look y’all- we have a butt cake!”


Her boyfriend Mike sent me this little funny memory:
“I think this was her freshman year at Ship she called me to tell me she was cooking pasta for dinner and burned it really bad. As a joke I asked her if she used water (I thought everyone knew that). She asked me, realizing what she had done, "You need water for pasta?" I think I laughed so hard she hung up on me. Then a year or so later she called me to tell me she burned a bunch of rice the same way.”

She made us laugh, that’s for sure…..

Thoughts from Uncle Mike...

When I am tired of feeling the anger, pain, confusion, sorrow, or the sad feelings I begin to play a game. Sometimes the game makes me laugh and other times cry. But the tears are more of the joy of having known Emily than the sorrow of missing her.

I call the game: “Remember when Emily……”

• Was baptized, and I had worked a midnight shift, slept through the service, woke up long enough to hold her for it, then went back to sleep.

• Was at G.G.’s house with her new found Alabama accent saying “You wanna ‘nother beaaar Uncle Mike?” I told her yes many more times than I should have and paid for it with a pretty sizeable headache the next day. I can still see her short little legs running across the living room holding a “beaaaar”, and everyone laughing.

• Lost a little McDonald’s toy at some park in Alabama and Melissa giving her hers so she would not be sad.

• Wanted me to take her to a book store and I did

• Was at Disneyworld for the first time with her autograph book finding characters for signatures and photo ops.

• Went to Disney with us a 2nd time and we went to the Pooh lunch on the first day. It is still one of my favorite Disney memories.

• Went to the top of the Wilderness Lodge to raise the flag early one morning.

• Drove me home at the beach because Jose Cuervo and I had gotten a little too comfortable. She was proud of herself that night.

• Would pretend to not get one of my “slightly” off color jokes, and ask you to explain it to her so she could say, “ooooooooo”.

• Would not get one of my “slightly” off color jokes and get you to explain it to her so she would say “oooooooooooooo”

I could go on typing for weeks, but I think you get the point. I miss Emily more than I can put into words. That will never change. The laughter and joy she left me with will not change either. That is what I am determined to hold onto.

Questions, pits, and comfort

“So, do you have any brothers or sisters?”

I never realized how often people ask about your siblings. It comes up a lot in conversation. How am I supposed to answer that? Do I have a sister, or did I have a sister? If I say no, that’s lying. She may not be here, but to say no is like saying she never was. So do I say yes, and leave it at that? Or do I say yes, then give the details about what happened to her? But then people feel sorry for you. And I don’t want pity.

There’s a big difference between someone sharing in your sorrow and someone feeling sorry for you. Because it is so easy to fall into the “poor me” trap. Or even worse- a pity pit. I’ve been in a pity-pit before- and believe you me, it is not a nice place to be. It colors how you look at everything. It’s dark, it’s sad, and it’s lonely. And it’s deep and hard to get out of. Eventually, people stop being understanding. They stay away because they don’t want to fall into the pity pit with you. And it takes awhile to realize that you’ve fallen into one. And even then you get to the point where you’re trying to reason with God why you deserve to stay in that pit. But He won’t pull you out of that pit kicking and screaming, against your will. You have to want to climb your way out. But the great thing about God is… you don’t have to climb all the way out on your own. All you have to do is ask, and He’s there to lift you out into the sunshine.

It’s so tempting to let myself fall into a pity pit. It’s so tempting to stay in bed and pull the covers over my head and hide from the pain. It’s tempting to forget that I am not the only one who’s hurting. It’s tempting to think that I don’t have to acknowledge anyone else’s suffering. It’s tempting to let myself be rude to people, because I have an “excuse”. But God can’t use me if I do that. I keep going back to that verse in Corinthians about comfort. “…the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.” If someday God brings someone across my path who lost his/her sister- I can share that comfort. And no, I don’t believe that Emily died just so I’d be able to comfort someone else someday. God doesn’t work like that. There’s a reason for Emily’s death. I don’t know what it is, and I may never know the reason why. But I do know that He has been my rock. And He brought people into my life that know firsthand the pain and sorrow of losing someone they love. But even though I have those dear friends who have comforted me in more ways than I could ever, ever tell them- it’s been God who I’ve leaned on the most. He brings us together in our sorrow, and brings us into each others lives to share that comfort… but the key is that we need to remember from Whom that comfort ultimately comes. And if you’re still stuck in the muck and mire of a pity pit- it’s kinda hard to share comfort with someone else if you haven’t realized it for yourself.

I still am not sure how to answer when I'm asked if I have any brothers or sisters. Maybe I just need to answer honestly. And if I see the "pity look", I can stop them and say, "yes, her death was horrible. But let me tell you about just how good my God is."

I have a Pastor friend who e-mails us periodically with his thoughts and mediations. Oftentimes he signs them with the Latin phrase “satis est”, which I believe translates to “it is enough”. I love that phrase. It is enough. God is enough.

“I waited patiently for the LORD;
he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.”
Psalm 40:1-2

God is good. He is the God of all comfort, satis est.

Days, Regrets, Sorrow, and Joy...

It’s funny how each of us are affected by a different day. Yesterday, the 1st, is the day she actually died- but we didn’t actually find out until the 2nd. Today I think is harder for my parents. And y’all saw Diana’s post- today is painful for her too.
Today is hard for me too--- but the day I had trouble with was Wednesday, the 30th. For me, the day before will always be a day of regrets. Regrets that I hadn’t picked up the phone to call her to tell her I was back from South Carolina. Regrets that the last time I had spoken to her was a whole week before. Regrets that the last conversation we had, I rushed her off the phone because Laurie and I were getting ready to go somewhere. Regrets that I didn’t spend the last day of my sister’s life with her. Regrets that it was 24 hours until someone found her. Regrets that I didn’t realize something was wrong when she didn’t call me. She always called. Regrets that the last time I saw her, the night before I left, she wanted to watch a movie. But I was too tired and went to bed. I can’t remember if I even hugged her. I think I said “I love you.” I pray I did- but I can’t remember.

Regrets, regrets, regrets.

You can really torture yourself with regrets.

And as I type, all the feelings of regret and despair are hitting me like a flood. Lately, I can’t concentrate. When I’m at work, I find myself staring at my computer screen, not even comprehending what I’m looking at it. When I’m here, I want to be home. When I’m home, I want to be anywhere else but there. I drive through town and I see places we’ve been or something that reminds me of her, and suddenly I want to be somewhere where Emily’s never lived. I wish I could pack up and start all over somewhere new.
I hate driving now. It makes me think too much. I don’t know how I’m going to drive back down to South Carolina in July--- eight hours is a long time to think.

I feel disoriented and disjointed. I write in fragments, and I can’t finish my sentences. I find I eat only because I have to. (Which although, I guess isn’t so bad. Food, weight and eating has always been a struggle for me.) I'm afraid to sometimes write and post what I'm really feeling, but then I don't care because they don't have to read it. There are people at work that I can’t stand to be in the same room with. I want to be with people, but then when I am, I want them to go away. I don’t want people to pity me, but I want them to understand that I’m hurting. But then I’m afraid to say anything because it makes people uncomfortable. I’m tired of not telling people when they’ve said something stupid. I’m tired of making excuses for when someone I love says something hurtful. Someone I thought I could lean on is being distant, and I’m being selfish- but it hurts. The one person who’s been there for me more than anyone lives 5 states away, and I miss her.

One minute I miss Emily so much I can’t stand it, the next I’m so furious with her I don’t know what to do. I’ve gone for days without crying, and today I can’t stop. (I KNEW I should not have worn mascara today.) I’m afraid I’m getting on people’s nerves, but then I don’t care because without Emily… it doesn’t matter. Dear friends of ours sent us a card yesterday, and she wrote about missing the presence of someone. And she is so right. I miss Emily being here. I miss being mad at her. I miss making up with her. I miss listening to her dramatics, I miss trying to tell her that it wasn’t the end of the world. I miss laughing with her. I miss making fun of stupid people together. I miss going to the movies. I miss how she would get so irritated with me because I would insist on getting to the theater early enough to watch the previews. I miss getting irritated with her because she would dawdle and make us late. I miss getting on her for driving like a maniac. I miss how she made us laugh. I miss the fragile bond that we were slowly starting to repair.

I lied. Today is definitely worse. The 30th is my day of regrets. The 1st is the actual anniversary. But the 2nd… that’s my (our) day of loss.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Psalm 34:18

That is how I feel- utterly crushed in spirit. People keep telling me not to lose faith, etc. (Those people are the ones that fall into the stupid category by the way.) I have not lost my faith in any way, shape, or form. God understands sorrow- more than we can ever imagine. You can sorrow, your heart can break, and you can still have joy in the Lord. After all, like the verse says, "The joy of the Lord is my strength." Letting yourself despair doesn’t mean that you’ve lost faith. Anyone who says that they don’t go through times of overwhelming despair, where they feel like they are indeed crushed in spirit, are either lying, or have never been through it. But the verse promises that He will be close.

And He is, I know He is. It's what gets me through every day.
But it hurts, oh, it hurts so bad.

A butterfly...

We love you Emmy.

It's been a month.

It’s been a month. A MONTH. 30 days. A lifetime.

I thought I would write something to Emily. But I can’t, not today. I thought I’d post another funny story about Emily, to put a little laughter into today. But somehow, my heart just isn’t in being funny.

You would think I’d have something profound to write. I wish I did.
All that keeps running through my mind is that today it’s been a month.

I wonder how long you keep marking anniversaries. Do you eventually get to the point where you’ve lost count of how many months it’s been and you just start counting the years? Or is every first of the month going to be like today?

I have a ceramic calendar on my desk that still says April 1st. All last month, I couldn’t change the blocks for the date, so I left it where it is. And today I just can’t bring myself to switch out the little blocks from April to May. Maybe I’ll just leave them there. Kinda appropriate- it's the day time stood still.

Maybe tomorrow I'll laugh again. Maybe I'll laugh even yet today. But in this moment, all I am is here.

Grrrrrrr..........

"Melissa, what's wrong?"

(*grrrrr* this is such a dumb question)

"Well, today it's been a month."

"Wow, it's been a month already? I can't believe how quickly it's passed."

(*sigh*)

Why, why, WHY do people say such stupid things?!?!?

*ggrrrsigh*