Trading sorrow for shadows

I don’t remember a time without Emily. I know I was only 4 ½ when she was born, but I literally cannot remember what it was like without her. I have no distinct memory of when she was born… I don’t remember being resentful, mad, happy, or excited. In my mind she was just always there. Every childhood memory is intertwined with her. And honestly, even during those rough years when I was so angry with her, I don’t even remember ever wishing I was an only child. As mad as she used to make me, I never wished she wasn’t a part of my life. Yes, I wished sometimes that the situation was different, and I wished sometimes that things would somehow get easier. But I have never not wanted a sister. It’s all I’ve ever known.

And I feel so lost… I feel like I’ve lost a part of my identity. I try and write down every memory I have, but even now I know there are so many I’m forgetting. I want to capture them before I forget, because they’re all I have.

About a year ago I started following a story online. Elena Desserich was a six year old little girl that was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor in November of 2006, called a Diffused Intrinsic Pontine Glioma. (DIPG). It’s attacks the brainstem, and makes it impossible to operate on. There’s no cure, life expectancy after being diagnosed with this is between 1-2 years, and the survival rate is less than 10%. Her parents started a website after she was diagnosed. I read it every day. Some were funny, some left me in tears. My heart broke for this family I had never met. This little girl who for some reason really touched my heart. I wanted her to be the exception, I wanted her to beat that disease. But in the back of my mind, I was waiting for the inevitable post. And on August 11, 2007, 9 months after she was diagnosed, I read it. Elena had passed away. I cried and cried that day, but I didn’t fully comprehend the depths of their sorrow. They continued to write after she died, and as I read their writings in the days and weeks after, and I thought I understood. I didn’t. Now I do. It’s not the same kind of sorrow, or the same kind of loss. But it’s still sorrow.
Elena has a 5 year old sister named Gracie. A couple weeks ago, they wrote something about how she was having trouble remembering her sister. And I wonder which is worse. To lose a sister at such a young age and grow up missing what could have been…. or losing a sister and the lifetime of memories along with her? I don’t know the answer to that. Sometimes I think about this little girl and wonder if 10 years from now when she’s 15 if she will still feel the crushing loss, or will it have subsided into a memory brought to life only by pictures? Will it still be as painful for me 10 years from now when I’m 35 and have gone on with my life- without Emily?
I find myself thinking that Gracie may have gotten a worse deal than me. How much can you remember before the age of 5? I have 20 years of vivid memories, pictures, and funny stories. I won’t have to remember Emily through someone else’s stories and memories of her. But Gracie will. Maybe her sorrow will be easier to deal with as the years go by, but where I have memories of a sister, I fear Gracie will have shadows. Shadows of what could have been, and constant reminders of what she’s missing out on.

I don’t think I want to trade my sorrow for shadows….

After Emily died, and we decided to have memorial contributions sent to St. Jude’s Children’s research hospital, a few people asked “Why St. Jude’s?” Almost as if to day, “she didn’t have cancer, why didn’t you choose American Diabetes Association or something to do with diabetes?” I often replied because it was a charity that Emily believed in. Her sorority does fundraisers for St. Jude. But the truth is... for me it was because of Elena. And Kate. And JJ. And Madeline. And Maria. And Sophie. And McKenna. All these kids had DIPG. And… they all had brothers or sisters they left behind. Siblings who are far too young to be grappling with a loss of this magnitude. Kids that are far too young to be left with shadows instead of the brothers and sisters that they loved. Those kids and their brothers and sisters are why St. Jude’s. Maybe a donation made in memory of my sister can keep someone else from having to grow up with shadows instead of a sibling- and that’s why St. Jude’s. I think Emily would agree.

These are just some of the kids whose stories I've read. There are so many more. I'd never heard of this disease before. Read their stories. Then I think you'll see why St. Jude's.

Elena

Kate

Maria

Sophie

JJ

Just say no... to sweeping

Something else that’s been added to my list of things I can’t do without being reminded of Emily… sweeping the floors at Food Lion. Sound crazy? Maybe it is. But for some reason, every time I start sweeping, I think of Emily. (And no, it’s not because she loved to sweep or some weird reason like that. I don’t think that girl ever held a broom in her life.) I think it’s just because it’s such a mindless task, my mind starts to wander. I don’t really have to concentrate on what I’m doing, and my thoughts just drift to Emily. And then I can’t stop them from coming.
Kind of like this…
*swish, swish* Emily’s birthday is next month *swish, swish* Maybe I should still get her a birthday card *swish, swish* Maybe I’ll buy myself a present and just pretend I’m shopping for her *swish, swish* Presents? Christmas is not going to be fun this year. *swish, swish* I really hate myself that I stopped our tradition of our “Christmas sleepover” last year *swish, swish* I hope Mom still gets her Mary’s Angel ornament this year. *swish, swish* She won’t be there to watch me decorate the tree, and offer to help even though we both know she doesn’t really want to, and I really don’t want her to either. But she always stayed and talked to me. *swish, swish* There won’t be any finger marks in the Christmas cookie dough mom made ahead and tried to hide in the fridge *swish, swish* Okay, I really won’t miss that, that was kinda gross. *swish, swish* We’re painting my room this week, all my earthly possessions have taken over the living room. She would so be on my case about how much of a packrat I am. *swish, swish* She’d really just be waiting to see what I got rid of so she could keep it. *swish, swish* She probably wouldn’t have liked the color paint I chose. It’s not as bright and cheery as hers. *swish, swish* I wish she could see it though *swish, swish* I’m going to South Carolina next week. It was the last place I was that I was happy. Oblivious. I wish I was there now. *swish, swish* this sucks, this sucks, this sucks *swish, swish* *sniff, sniff*

So I’m going to tell them that I just can’t sweep the floors anymore, because it makes me think too much. Hm... they probably won’t go for that logic, eh?

*sigh*

Why doesn't he understand?

I am so darn tired of not being able to do anything right in my boss's eyes. No matter what I do, no matter how much I try and work on "problem areas", it is just never enough. I hate to sound paranoid, but this guy really has it in for me. When other people are noticing that he picks at me unjustly- it can't simply just be all in my head. For example, a few months ago, I got fussed at for talking too much. Okay, I made a concerted effort to limit my personal conversations. Last Friday? I was questioned why I am being "distant, unfriendly, and not speaking to anyone anymore." Are you kidding me? How do you work with someone like that????

And I think that they have honestly forgotten about Emily. One of my co-workers said I needed to sit down and talk to him and remind him that I am "going through a rough time", and ask him to be patient. One, this isn't a "rough time." A rough time is something that eventually gets better. This is not something that is going to change. Did they really expect me to bounce back after my allotted three days of bereavement? (And don't even get me started on THAT.) I shouldn't have to explain the obvious.

I'm not used to being disliked for no real reason. It's unsettling. And I can't fix it, which just drives me nuts. I wish I could quit right here and right now. And it really irritates me that when I leave here, he wins. But if I stay... I'm going to end up having a nervous breakdown.

But what really, really makes me mad is that he has me doubting my self-worth. And this has been going on since long before Emily. He almost has me believing that I am not capable. I know stuff- I know lots of stuff. And if he'd just give me a chance to prove myself, maybe he'd see that. It's time to get out of this mess. Life is too short.

Pretending

I have spent two months, 15 days and 22 1/2 hours pretending I am fine.

I am anything but.

thoughts unposted

mom and dad are home. I'm glad they're back, I was getting lonely... but at the same time I still want to be alone.

I miss Emily. It was horrible last night. I went to Sunnyway and bought junk- french bread pizzas, chips, cookies, and soda. I watched the Friend's DVDs. She should have been there!!!!
I started crying again I missed her so bad.
It's like it hits me out of nowhere, the sheer finality of it. It's in those moments that I realize... she is never coming back. I know it, and it's the harsh reality I face everyday, but I don't allow myself to really dwell on it other than the surface. But those moments come when my defenses are down, and it hits me like a ton of bricks and suddenly I can't breathe. I miss her.

and I can't even post entries like these, because this blog is read by so many family members that I can't let them see this. Not because I am ashamed of my feelings, but because I just don't think that they will understand. And I think it would hurt them, and that's the last thing I want to do.

I am censoring myself on my own blog.


(Posted 5-8-09)

Sharing a laugh

I never really realized just how much of a hermit I've become. All I ever do anymore is work. I go from my full-time job straight to my part-time job. When I'm not working, I'm doing laundry or trying to catch up on all the things I haven't had time to do. I don't really talk to people much... and I'm so very tired.

I have the whole weekend off. I need it, I need a break. And so I went to see a movie with Maria today. She works in the office at Food Lion. I had a really good time, and laughed more today than I think I have in weeks. Aside from family, obviously... there aren't many people I talk about Emily to. Maria worked with Emily, and she's been one of the few people who hasn't acted uncomfortable when I've talked about her. People at work have been supportive (my jackass boss NOT included), but it so obviously makes them uncomfortable when I talk about her. With the people at Food Lion it's different. They knew Emily... I think a good many of them just know me as Emily's sister. (which I think she got the biggest kick out of when I first started working there.) So they understand, because they knew her. Maybe it's different at Frick because they didn't know her, and therefore they just can't relate. I don't know. Oh don't get me wrong, they listen... but they give me that look. I hate that look. It's a mixture of pity and sympathy and... an underlying "I want to be supportive, but this conversation is making me uncomfortable and I really wish you'd quit talking." And God love Maria, she did not once give me the pity look. I could have hugged her.

Today was a good day simply because it was the first time since Diana left that I could bring up Emily in conversation, share a laugh with someone else who knew her, and actually feel better.

lonely

I'm lonely.

I have never been this lonely in all my life.

Here's how I spent my Friday:

Went to work.

Got yelled at by my boss.

Cried because I really believe I am doing a good job, but for some reason I just can't measure up to his expectations, and I will never, ever, be able to do anything right.

Got really, really mad because my boss made me cry.

Started to call Emily to vent. Realized halfway through.... cried again.

Called my dad and said they were being mean to me again.

Went home.

Went to the store and bought junk food.

Watched her Friend's DVD's.

Called Debbie. As usual, she didn't answer.

Left a message... not holding my breath that she will call me back.

Started to call Lauren... didn't want to bum her out.

Wanted to call Diana... couldn't remember what time it was in California, but figured she was working.

Tried to think of someone else to call.

Sadly realized there was no one else to call.

Trying to decide if I will post this or not.

Thinking maybe it wasn't such a smart idea to send this blog to so many people.

The terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

Emily, I had the worst day ever. Well, maybe the second worst day ever. Well... okay, it was just a crappy day. And I wish you were here to make me feel better. I want to tell you all about my day, and how mean my boss is, and how much I hate it there. It's Friday night... I went to the grocery store and bought chips and french bread pizzas, soda, and cookies. I have a Friend's DVD playing. I have everything but you. Mom and Dad have been out of town for two weeks. I've cooked- stuff I may have even gotten you to try. And if you were here, we'd probably have been fighting for almost all of it. And then we would have made up over chips and greasy pizza. Stayed up all night watching Friends. And it would have made my terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day not seem so bad.

But instead, I ate too much, it's no fun watching Friend's alone, and that all makes my terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day seem ever so much worse.

*sigh*

I hate this. Hate it. I miss you so much I can't breathe.

Penguins

I'm sitting here crying... over penguins. Yes, penguins. I checked the news online, and came across a story about an oil spill off the coast of Uruguay that has killed dozens and dozens of penguins and sea lions. I should have clicked off the story then, but I kept reading, and then looked at the pictures. Big mistake. Pictures of these beautiful creatures covered in oil washed up on the shore. Pictures of the ones still alive, completely covered in oil, looking at the camera with such a sad look in their eyes. I never knew a penguin could look so mournful. I wanted to get on a plane and fly over there and help save these poor animals. (I don't even know where Uruguay even IS.)

Because you see... even penguins remind me of Emily. I can't escape her, reminders are everywhere. It reminded me of the "Happy Feet" movie we were first in line to see. And the "March of the Penguins", that we never finished watching. And just because she thought they were so cute.

Defenseless creatures shouldn't have to suffer like those penguins are. Little sisters shouldn't die young.

Countdown to the Holiday

It's June 12th. I woke up this morning before I was fully awake and checked my cell phone. I had been dreaming about Emily and it was so real I almost believed I'd see the text message that should have been there: "One month 'til my birthday!"

It wasn't.

And it sucks.

Emily loved her birthday. She'd never really admit it, but I think she loved it even more than Christmas. Because it was all about her. Emily's birthday is July 12th. On July 13th, she started counting down to her next birthday. Throughout the year, she'd say... "8 months and 22 days until my birthday". Then is was.. "6 months and three weeks until my birthday!" Then it was.. "four months, two weeks, and 3 days until my birthday". By the time she passed the one month milestone, she was counting hours. We never said it to her face, but we always called it the National Holiday. And it irritated the snot out of me. She'd call me at work to announce how many more days until the Big Day. She was so funny, about two months away, she'd start asking what I'd gotten her for her birthday. And I always would say nothing. Over and over we played this little game. I always waited until the last minute, partly because that's just who I am, and partly because she was a horrible snoop. The last couple years I'd taken to hiding her presents in my car, because that's the one place she could not get into.

And as irritating as it could be... I miss it! I never thought I would, but I do. I miss being exasperated with her. Especially this one, the big 21. She insisted that I was going to be the one to take her for her first legal drink. Just me. Not one of her friends, not her sorority sisters, not anyone... just boring old me. She changed her mind at least 20 times about what the first drink was going to be. I don't think I ever told her how much that meant to me that of all the people who gladly would have gone with her, she wanted to go with me.

And now she's not here. We're talking about having a party on her birthday. At first I balked... it seemed kind of morbid. But over the last two months, the more I've thought about it, the more appropriate it seems. Emily loved parties. Emily loved alcohol. Emily loved her birthday. And if she knew that we were spending her day moping around crying- she'd have a gigantic hissy fit. There was never to be any crying on her day. So we'll laugh. (And we'll cry.) We'll remember Emily, and probably tell all kinds of embarrassing stories about her. (She always pretended to be mad, but I know she secretly liked hearing them retold.) We'll probably drink more than we should. And we'll make it through what is probably going to be the worst of the many Firsts without her.

So here's to the start of the countdown to the National Holiday.

Here's to you Emily.
I miss you, you little twerp.

Don't mess with me....

I’m trying so very hard not to lose my temper. I came close yesterday, twice. The first time was with my hyper-critical, extremely nosey, paranoid, tattle-tale co-worker. ( I really dislike this woman, in case you can’t tell.) She confronted me at the end of the day and wanted to know why I was being “mean” to her. She seems to have interpreted my sorrow and grieving as a personal affront to her, because I don’t “talk to her anymore.” I couldn't make her go away and leave me alone, but she finally did before I screamed at her. I managed not to, but oh.. I really wanted to tell her off. It might even have been worth getting fired over.

Then when I got home, there was yet another letter from Hagerstown Community College, congratulating Emily on her acceptance to the school and reminding her that registration was starting. We’ve called the school already and told them what happened. And we told them to stop sending stuff to Emily. So when I saw another one I was ticked. Before I could think, I had the phone in my hand and I was calling the admissions office. I managed to very politely explain to the admissions lady why I was calling. And I kept my cool- until she pulled Emily’s name up and said, “She shouldn’t be getting any more mail from us.” Grrrrrrr….. I gritted my teeth and said, “Well, we did. I just got one today.” “Oh, but she shouldn’t, we have it in our computer……” I interrupted her and said, “Lady, I don’t CARE what your computer says, I’m telling you I am holding a letter in my hand dated June 6th. We’ve called before, and the letters have got to stop!” By this time I’m not yelling, just trying to keep from crying, and mostly trying to keep myself from screaming every profane word I know at her. She apologized profusely and said she’d take care of it. She’d better. Next time, I’m going down there in person. To this poor admissions lady, she’s just a name on a computer screen. She has no idea of the pain that comes from just seeing Emily’s name in the mail. And then to open a letter congratulating her on her acceptance to a college that she’ll never attend? It’s like a sucker punch right to your very core. And I know she has no clue…but if another letter comes, by George- she’s going to find out.

(I sound a lot tougher than I really am….)

I think I’m about two steps from really losing my temper. I’m not usually a screamer. Actually, I think the times I’ve really completely lost my temper had been at Emily. She could push me to the edge so darn fast…
But I feel like the proverbial bull in a china shop. The china shop being my life, and me wanting to just completely go nuts and destroy everything I can get my hands on.

So fair warning- don’t piss me off. I’m dangerously close to screaming.

(I almost sound convincing, don't I?!?!)

But the thing is, I know that yelling at my idiotic co-worker won’t change anything other than to make an already bad situation worse. (Although Sara sent me a message on facebook and offered KDPhi's assistance as a hitman. Hitwoman? Women? whatever. It made me smile. I may take them up on it. JOKING, of course. Well, kind of....)

And I know making that admissions lady feel horrible isn’t going to make me feel better. Yelling and screaming may feel good for that moment, but when the moment is gone, all you are left with is remorse for losing it, and a very sore throat. And it won’t change that the reason why I want to scream in the first place hasn’t changed…

Emily is still gone, no matter how loudly I scream.

nervous breakdown....

if you think you're having a nervous breakdown, does it mean you really are or just overreacting? Is it something you are aware of as it's happening, or is it something you don't realize until after the fact? Because I think I'm having one.......I am actually daydreaming about what it would be like to completely lose it and have to be "put away" for a few days. Wondering if I could possibly be fired for going nuts. Not caring if I was.... thinking of blowing off working at Food Lion tonight and going home, putting on my pj's, and crawling into bed for the next week.
wanting all the stress of work and problems at church to just go away.
wondering if it's Emily I'm so upset over, my job and nasty bosses, or just a combination of everything.

I think I'm going crazy.

Stupid People

This really doesn’t have much to do with Emily, except that she would so totally understand what I mean about "stupid people".

So in addition to my job as an Admin here at lovely Johnson Controls/York Process Systems/Frick, I work part-time in the evenings at the Food Lion Deli. I think I’ve learned more about people in the 8 months I’ve been there than in the entire 5 years of working in this office. And everything I have learned can be summed up in one little sentence. “Most people are ignorant.”
There’s some kind of phenomenon that happens to a lot of people when they walk through the doors of a grocery store. They get rude. They forget that those people working at the registers and behind the counters are actually people just like them with feelings. Now I know not everyone is like this—I’ve actually met a few rather nice people. But the nasty ones by far outnumber the pleasant ones.

I’d really like to post a sign up at the deli…. but since I’d most likely be fired on the spot, I’ll just put it out here in cyberspace. :)

When you walk up to the deli counter, please do not try and talk to me and continue your conversation on your cell phone. It’s rude. If your call is that important, you shouldn’t be trying to shop and talk anyway. I will not wait on you if you are yakking on a cell phone.

When you walk up to the counter, do not look at me and say “I want some ham”, when you can see perfectly well that there are at least 6 different kinds of ham in the case in front of you.

On that note… saying “I would like…”, or “could I please have…” comes across a lot nicer than demanding “I want…”

I don’t care if you are in a hurry. It is really rude to rattle off your entire order of 20 different things, and then say “I’ll be back in 5 minutes.” Yeah, right.

Just because you are a customer does not mean you are always right.

Do not wait to tell me until after I have sliced three pounds of turkey and I am weighing on the scale that you wanted it chipped. You should have said something earlier. And it's not like you couldn't see the slicer from where you are standing.

“Please” and “thank-you” are still in the dictionary last time I looked.

I do not control the prices. Please don’t yell at me because the ham you always get has gone up 15 cents. Especially when I can see that the purse you are carrying costs more than my car.

When it is 10:00 at night, the lights are off, and you can see the broom in my hands, do not ask if the Deli is closed. Duh.

Don't tell me to smile. If I’m not smiling, it doesn’t mean that I am being rude. It means that I miss my sister and I am doing the best I can.

"Don't Cry"

"Don’t cry."

I cannot tell you how many times I have heard this over the past few months. And for those of you who know me- I’m not one to cry a lot. Well, let me rephrase that. I cry at Kodak commercials and sappy movies. Okay, I cry at Disney movies too. I’ve been known to cry over a book. That commercial they show about the shelter dogs- you know the one where Sarah McLachlan’s song “Angel” is playing? That’s enough to send me out of the room. I cry over those superficial things. But about my deepest feelings and anxieties and hurts?

No, those I keep bottled up.
(In case you haven’t picked up on it, I am a walking contradiction.)

But getting back to my point- I have not cried a lot in front of people since Emily died. So when I am finding myself in a vulnerable moment and crying, it’s devastating to hear someone tell you “Don’t cry.” And I don’t believe people mean it that way- it’s just that being a witness to someone’s intense emotional pain and distress is so overwhelming, they don’t know what to do. And because people feel powerless to help. Because face it, there isn’t a thing anyone can say to make it better. And so the first reaction is to say, “don’t cry.”

We have a Bible Study that meets here at work on Wednesdays. My friend Debbie is the one that leads the group. Currently we are doing a study by Beth Moore, “Jesus, the One and Only.” (Which is a GREAT study. They all are- this is the third one we’ve done and I’ve loved them all. I highly recommend it.) Anyway, the focus verse for the lesson was Luke 7: 13: “When the Lord saw her, His heart went out to her and He said, ‘Don’t cry.’” Now, my friend Debbie has the gift of tears. She cries with you, and she cries for you. She feels things so deeply, that the tears just flow. Usually it’s me passing her the tissue box. Well today, it was me that needed the tissues. I don’t know why that verse set me off, but I think I cried through the whole hour.
The background to this story: Jesus comes across a funeral for the only son of a widow. She never asked Christ to intercede on her behalf, nor did anyone else. It was a chance meeting, but Jesus saw her tears and felt such compassion for her, He said those words that should never be said to someone who is grieving, “Don’t cry.” Now surely He of all people ought to know better. But why is it different, you ask? Well I’m going to tell you. Jesus then touches her son, and brings him back to life. Not because of any kind of requests, or even faith on the mother’s part. But because He felt such compassion and empathy for her. That completely blows my mind. The difference is that He told her not to cry not because it made Him uncomfortable, or helpless- but the exact opposite. He knew what He was going to do. He was essentially telling her, “Don’t cry, because I am here. I am going to fix this for you.” It’s a beautiful piece of scripture.

Now I know that Emily is gone. And I know that even though God is God and can do anything, she isn’t coming back. And so I imagine that what Christ is saying to me, here and now in this time is a little different: “Don’t cry… with hopeless tears. Cry knowing that I am still here, and that you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Anniversaries

With the second month anniversary passing, I’ve been thinking a lot about those. Anniversaries. When I hear that word, the first thing I usually associate it with is a wedding. But we observe all kinds of anniversaries--- our birthdays, marriages, class reunions, years at a job. Stores will send you coupons on your birthday, and have sales celebrating their “big” milestones, such as "in business for 25 years". We have parades every year, and celebrate holidays. We have all kinds of ways of marking significant dates. But death, death is the silent anniversary. Hallmark doesn’t have a “It’s been two months and I’m thinking of you” card. (at least not yet.) For obvious reasons, there’s no party. And definitely not a parade. You don’t get a discount at your favorite store. And since it is so intensely personal, most people who are removed from the situation don’t even remember the significance of the day. You move through the day, not ignoring what it is, but at the same time not really wanting to acknowledge it.
It makes for a very lonely day.

But why? I miss Emily everyday, so why is the 1st so much harder? I found out on a Wednesday, yet I don’t dread each one with the same kind of dread that leads up to the first. And as well as dreading the 1sts of the month- I’m also dreading the other firsts; her birthday next month. The first Thanksgiving without her. The first Christmas. The first New Year. The first Easter. The first year anniversary. Maybe it’s not so much the days themselves I dread, but simply another reminder of her absence.

I keep saying life is too short. But it is. Life is too short to wait for the next anniversary. You don’t need a day to remind you to get a card for your spouse telling them you love them. You don’t need a class reunion to stay in touch with an old friend. It’d be really great if you didn’t have to wait for the 5 year anniversary of your job hire date to get another week’s vacation. Birthdays are great- but life is too short to wait a whole year to send a card telling that person you’re glad they were born.

Everyday you get up, and live, should be like an anniversary. Life is too short to wait for the big ones.

Two months

It's been two months.

I think earlier I compared grief to a rollercoaster....
Well, I’ve run out of barf bags and I'm ready to get off the ride.


I miss you Emily.