Return to Sender.....

Now I’m known to have a rather weird sense of humor. So you all may not find the humor in this, but in light of the last 4 months…. I just have to laugh.

I received a very strange call from my flute teacher. I’m taking flute lessons from the Cumberland Valley School of Music, and the fall semester is starting soon. So here I am at work, and the phone rings.

“Good afternoon, this is Melissa.”

“Melissa?”

“Yes?”

“Melissa Norman?”

“Yes?”

“Melissa, that’s really you?”

Slight pause… “yes, that’s me.”

“This is Dottie, your flute teacher? Oh my gosh, I’m so glad you’re there. I’m so glad I got a hold of you.”

Okay, weird. She sounded, almost upset. But… Dottie is normally a little… different. You know, the musician-y type. But she’s really nice, and she put up with me trying to make actual music come out of that darn flute, and she still seemed to think there is hope for me.

Anyway, she proceeds to tell me that the CVSM office had called her because my registration form they sent me came back undeliverable. So she asked for my address again. She still sounded a little strange. Then she said, “Okay, so I’m going to call the office back right away.” I’m thinking… “gee, this is really nice that’s she going to so much trouble--- but I’m an adult beginner flute student. Why on earth is she going to all this trouble?”

We chatted for a few minutes, and then I hung up.

Half an hour later, the phone rings again.

“Good afternoon, this is Melissa.”

“Melissa?” (different voice, same question)

“Yes?”

“Melissa Norman?”

Ok, major déjà vu.

“Yesss…..”

“This is Christy from the CVSM office? I understand you just talked to Dottie a little while ago.”

She went on to say that she just wanted to double check the address again. So I gave it to her. Then she asked me if I’d had any trouble with receiving my mail. I told her no, and then finally asked what was going on.
She hesitated and said… “Honey, I don’t know how exactly to say this… but when your registration came back it was marked that you were, um… deceased.”

WHAT?!?!

I was stunned for a moment, and then I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I stupidly said, “Well.... I’m not!!” She kind of laughed too. I realized that somehow the post office must have gotten Emily and I mixed up. So I told her about Emily. Which I hate doing to people. It catches them off guard, and they never know what to say. And it’s worse when you get the really sweet people like her. She sounded like she was going to cry, which made ME want to cry… so I did what I always do when I get uncomfortable. I make jokes.

“So… I wonder if all my bills are returned to sender marked ‘deceased’ if I still have to pay them?”

She did laugh though, so the crying situation was averted.

Poor Dottie… no wonder she sounded so strange on the phone.

I find myself laughing, until the underlying reason for the whole mess hits me again. Then it’s really not quite as funny as it seemed.

Dad’s going to go have a little talk with the Post Office though- one, they are returning the wrong one’s mail. two, we didn’t ask to have her mail returned in the first place. Ahh the joys of living in a small town...

So in the meantime, if any of y’all have mailed me anything--- don’t panic if it comes back. I am still very much here.

Here's your sign....

Okay, so I’m arranging for a freight carrier to come in and pick up some compressors we are shipping to China. I sent the weights and dimensions to the woman making the arrangements: 3 skids, weighing 11,000 pounds, 12 x 4 x 4.

I get an e-mail from this woman, and she tells me that I didn’t specify whether or not the dimensions were in inches or in feet.

Ummm….. okay, it’s 11 THOUSAND pounds. I mean, seriously? What on earth would fit into a 12 inch by 4 inch box and weigh 11 THOUSAND pounds?

People amuse me.

But I politely e-mailed her back and said “It’s in feet.”

Now there’s a sentence you don’t find yourself typing very often…..

hahahahahahaha


I picked up the phone to call Emily and tell her. She always got a kick out of my stupid work stories.
*sigh*

measuring up

I was driving to work this morning, and the thought struck me again as it has occasionally in the last four months. If I should die sometime in the near future, who’s going to speak at my funeral? I spoke at Emily’s because… well, because she’s my sister. And I owed it to her. And I knew that my parents couldn’t. I actually didn’t think that I could, but the strength to make it through those awful minutes didn’t come from me anyway.
But seriously… who? It’s a depressing thought. Who knows me well enough to really talk about who I was? What kind of person I was? What made me, me? It was Emily. And she left me first.
I don’t like to think about funerals and stuff. But the sheer lack of knowing what Emily would have wanted for hers has made me think about it a lot. I love my parents, but the truth of the matter is that a lot of the decisions… I made. Not the “big” ones, like whether or not to have her buried or cremated, and where to have the service. And that’s fine, they weren’t my decisions to make. And I know that funerals are really for the living, and not the dead anyway. But oh… I don’t think Emily would have liked it. I wanted “her” at the memorial service. I wanted an urn up front, and even her picture. But when I brought it up, it bothered mom. But that service didn’t feel real, it didn’t have the closure that I needed.
I chose the picture for the memorial bulletin. They used my poem on the inside. I chose all the scripture and the hymns. I think I picked ones she would have liked. I insisted on doing the picture collage to put in the fellowship hall. Mom didn’t like it, but afterwards I think she came around and was glad I did.

But who the hell is going to do that for me? And if I leave my list of what I want and what I don’t want…. who’s going to make sure that my parents do it? Who’s going to write a stupid blog about me? Who’s going to go through my stuff and make sure my dearest friends and family get something of mine that meant something to them?

And last of all…. it’s totally weird, stupid, and selfish…. but it bothers me that there won’t be as many people at mine as there were at Emily’s.
There. I said it. It’s been bothering me for months. But I can’t help it.

She always did everything better than me. And even now that she’s gone… I still will never measure up.

I hate her. I hate myself for hating her. I hate that I can’t seem to get past this.
I hate everything.

Temper, temper

I want to be three again, so I can do this:

RRRRRRRRAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But at 25, I don't think people would be as understanding........

Nicknames and heartache

There’s a rage lurking just beneath the exterior, and I’m not sure how much longer I can fight it back. I am so unbelievably pissed off. Maybe I need medication, maybe it’s just that I’ve been pushing everything down for the last four months, maybe it’s a combination of both. But I can feel it rising up inside me, and it actually almost scares me. I’m afraid one of these days someone is going to say something and I am literally going to go ballistic.

God, I just don’t understand. I want to trust, I do…. but it’s just so hard when everything around looks so bleak. I can’t stand the thought of facing day after monotonous day here. I’d just up and go to SC, except I’m afraid Lauren won’t go for that, if I don’t have a job lined up. I’m pretty sure that I could manage to get one, but who knows? I may not right away, and it’s not like I have a readily accessible supply of money. Which is my own dumb fault, I know.

I just feel so lost. And alone. I’ve never felt this lonely in all my life.


Diana posted something in her livejournal that just about cut me to the core. She posted an excerpt from an e-mail survey that Em had sent, and one of the questions was about what nicknames people call you. Em’s response was “Usually just Em, but sometimes people call me Emmy… usually when they want something. (*cough* my sister* cough*)

I wanted to cry. I never called her Emmy because I wanted something from her. I called her Emmy because it was a pet nickname and it was cute, and she wouldn’t let many people get away with it. Just like when she called me “Misla”. I’m sure she didn’t mean a thing by it, other than being funny with her friends…. but it’s still left me somewhat heartbroken.

I hate this. It’s just not fair.

Scary movies and getting even...

I was texting back and forth with my cousin Rachel last night. (Oh the joys of being 13 with a new cell phone and unlimited text messaging!) Anyway, she was telling me about some scary ghost show she was watching on TV, and it reminded me of a funny Emily memory.

When Mom was involved in Girl Scouts she would go away for weekend leader’s retreats. (I still think that was just a ruse to get all those women away from their kids and husbands for a weekend. I mean seriously, just how much training do you really need?! Just kidding, Mom.) Anyway, when she was gone, we would rent all the scary movies and action movies that Mom doesn’t particularly like and spend the weekend staying up late and watching them. So this all started one weekend when Mom was gone and the three of us decided to watch “What Lies Beneath”. Which is by far one of the scariest movies I think I have ever seen. At one point, we paused the movie for a bathroom break. Emily commandeered the upstairs bathroom, so I had to go downstairs. Mind you, we were watching the scariest movie I have ever seen. With scary bathroom scenes. Anyhow, when I started back upstairs, Emily was back in the living room, but Dad wasn’t there. She had this really weird look on her face, and when I asked where Dad was. She shrugged her shoulders, still with that strange look. Then all of a sudden from the hallway I heard, “RRAAAAARRRRRRR!!!” I screamed, half jumped and then half fell to my knees, still on the stairs, terrified out of my bloody mind. Emily was falling off the chair she was laughing so hard. That answered my question where Dad was. And I for one was thankful I had already gone to the bathroom. She was so smug that she and Dad cooked this up. Neither one would ever ‘fess up over who thought of the idea first. But Emily was pretty pleased with herself.

So needless to say, I had to get even at Em. Yes, I know Dad was the one who did the jumping and making of loud noises… but that’s to be expected from him. (And even I must admit, it was pretty funny.) But still, Emily turned traitor. She broke the unspoken sisterhood vow. It’s the kids against the parents. You don’t break ranks and join the other side.

So fast forward many months later. Both mom and dad were gone for the weekend, and Emily had invited a couple friends over. I know one of them was Dacia.. and I think Diana was there too, but I can’t remember now. One of them brought “The Ring”, which is also a very scary movie. The whole premise of the movie is that people watch this videotape, then they get a phone call telling them they are going to die. (Or something like that, it’s been awhile. But I do remember the part about the phone call. Remember that, it is very important to this story.) We paused the movie for a bathroom break and Emily felt the need to tell them about the time she and Dad “got me.” We all had a good laugh at my expense, (haha), and then it hit me. The perfect revenge.
We turned the lights back off, and finished the movie. Now at some point, Emily had ended up with the phone next to her. I just happened to have my cell phone in my pocket. I waited until the movie ended, and just as they turned it off… “BRRRRIIINNNNG!!”
I have never laughed so hard in my life. Emily screamed, threw the phone across the room, and practically jumped into Dacia’s lap. I think I scared Diana along with Emily (I’m pretty sure it was Diana…) but Dacia had seen me with the phone, so she knew what I was doing. Felt kinda bad for scaring Diana too, but the look on Emily’s face was priceless.
I laughed, and laughed, and laughed. She pretended to be ticked, but even she admitted that she had it coming.

Oh… the memories.

The depths of despair....

I start to think I am doing better, and then find myself falling into the "depths of despair", as Anne used to say. (You know, from Anne of Green Gables? One of few movies ever made that was just as good as the book) And it was one of our favorite movies. We used that phrase all the time. Emily of course, was the more dramatic of the two of us. She'd put her hand to her forehead and heave this huge sigh that must've come from her toes and would almost have you convinced that making her pick up her breakfast dishes really had thrown her into the "depths of despair." *shakes her head as she types*. I'd forgotten about that until now.. I remember watching Anne of Green Gables for the first time. We were in Alabama, and for some reason, we were all sitting on the floor. I was sitting on the Turkish rug in front of the fireplace. I used to like to sit and pick at the charred threads from the fire. I close my eyes, and I can almost feel the parts of the rug I had picked clean. Anyway, I remember getting to the part of the movie where Anne and Diana aren't allowed to be friends anymore, and I started sobbing my heart out. To the point where mom and dad had to pause the movie. I was inconsolable at the thought that Anne had lost the one person who was as close to her as a sister. Never mind that mom kept telling me it was going to be okay, to keep watching. My heart was just breaking. Eventually I calmed down enough to finish watching, and mom was right- everything turned out okay. I thought I understood that depth of grief as a 10 year old little girl, caught up in the emotion of a movie. Now I'm a 25 year old little girl who's caught in the nightmare of life, and who understands firsthand what the "depths of despair" really does feel like. And unlike the movie, there's no way I can fastforward life to see if everything turns out okay.

See, that is why I read the end of books, and want to know what's going to happen at the end of a movie. I need to know what's coming, and I need to know it's going to turn out okay. And if it's not- at least I can prepare myself for it. (I'm neurotic, I know. Somedays I really think I would be a shrink's dream come true. There's so much to work with, I may as well be a walking dollar sign.)


Well. That was so totally not where I was going to go with this post. Funny how something like a silly phrase unleashes memories you'd forgotten you had.....
Guess I'll save the rest for another day. Doesn't quite seem to fit now.

I can't seem to catch my breath. I'm not talking metaphors, I'm talking asthma. I've been sighing and yawning all day, because it's the only way to get enough air into my lungs. It's very hard to truly describe what it's like to live as an asthmatic. I think it's one of those things no one can understand until they have felt it. (Ha, kind of like this nightmare that's been the last four months of my life.) The best I can do is that it feels like someone has a fist wrapped around your lung. You don't notice it until you try and take a breath, and then you realize that it has slowly been tightening it's grip. And you're breathing, breathing, breathing, and those damn lungs just won't expand. You feel the panic start to settle, and the only thought in your mind is air. It's a helpless feeling. Asthma is one of those non-diseases. It's a disease, but not a Disease if you know what I mean. Like Cancer is a Disease. And Diabetes is a Disease. Asthma isn't quite worthy of the capital "D"- it's kind of ranked down there with arthritis, and acid reflux. It's something that you live with and deal with. But for those of us who are Asthmatics, and those who have witnessed us having an attack--- that's some pretty scary stuff. The only thing that's as helpless as having an attack is the one who is watching the person having the attack. My poor parents come to mind. And Laurie, who I think I have traumatized forever that one night at the beach.
I've fought with my parents since I was diagnosed as a kid. Refused to take my medicine, refused to slow down, refused to label myself as "sick", was mortified when they made a stink at school when my P.E. teacher made me run the mile, refused to go to the doctor and waited until long after I should have.... in some ways I'm as bullheaded as Emily was about being "sick". I guess the difference is in her capital "D", and my lowercase "a".
My point to all of this... I can't breathe. And I don't know if it's the asthma, if it's grief, or a combination of the two. But today I gave in, and gave up, and called the doctor. I'm going to ask tomorrow if she can refer me to an asthma specialist. Maybe I'm grasping at straws and praying that the fist that has been tightening around my lungs and my heart the last few months is just Asthma and not Grief. And maybe there really is a magic cure that will make it easier to breathe again.

But there's a part of me that's afraid I won't ever be able to really breathe again.

A Lifeline....

Sometimes I never know what to say on here. No, I take that back. Sometimes I never know how much to say on here. I find I write something, and then I don’t post it because when I re-read it, it sounds somewhat pathetic and extremely depressing. There are quite a few entries I’ve written and never posted, but they still are there in cyber limbo. I went back this morning and read a few of them, and the raw emotion I was feeling then kind of took me by surprise. Yikes. I have trouble showing weakness. And to me, those posts when I was at my lowest showed me at my most vulnerable. And in typical Melissa fashion, I hid those away and put on a happy face. I think people are onto me. I’m not fooling anyone. Why do I even try? After Emily’s party on Saturday, Brandon had a campfire at his house and invited a group of people. At one point, Ashley disappeared. After awhile Diana went looking for her. When she didn’t come back, I went looking for the both of them. And found them sitting by the fence crying. And as I sat down next to Diana, before I knew it, she was sobbing. And then Ashley was on the other side and the three of us were a mess. I’ve never heard such heart-breaking sounds in my life. And I cried, but I still didn’t let myself completely go. And I don't know why...

I find myself feeling… not worse for Emily’s friends than I do myself, but feeling for them differently. Your friends don’t die at 20. It’s just not the way it’s supposed to be. I was thinking the other day, and I’ve thought this before, that while I miss Emily more than I could ever convey in my feeble words… it’s different. I think about Lauren and Debbie, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost either of my best friends. But while Emily wasn’t my best friend, she’s my sister. She’s the other half of me. She was my childhood, and was supposed to be my adulthood. She’s intertwined through my life story in a way that no one else except a sister could ever be. I’ve lost a connection to my past, and I’ve lost a part of my future. It’s like my life is a tapestry, and Emily was a particular thread that went missing halfway through. The completed tapestry will still be beautiful (hopefully!), but when you look up close, you will be able to see where the thread stopped.

This blog has been a lifeline for me. When I started this, I had no clear idea where it would go. I guess in the back of my mind, I was thinking it would be more… funny stories and memories of Emily. Seems like it’s been more about me. (haha, Emily would HATE that!!!) Funny how things never turn out the way we expect. Even in something as silly as this. But when I go back and read those unposted entries, it struck me that the majority of them aren’t from the beginning… but are from within the last month. Maybe I’ve been afraid to share those personal thoughts because I should be “moving on” by now? That I’m afraid of coming across as depressed as everyone else gets back to “normal?” Or just that I’ve been feeling this all along and have just refused to let those emotions go. That’s probably closest to the truth.

Over the last few months, so many people have commented on how “well” I write. (insert typical Melissa eye-roll, and shoulder shrug.) I don’t handle compliments well. I guess I wasn’t expecting that reaction at all. I wasn’t writing because of any kind of talent, but because I needed something to keep myself from exploding. So what on earth possessed me to start a public blog and send it to my family? I guess because I wasn’t really expecting it to turn into a personal journal of sorts. I’ve been writing forever- journals and short stories, and most recently, poetry. That I’ve never really shared with anyone before. For a lot of reasons- lack of self-confidence, a fear of letting people get too close, etc. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I want to do with the rest of my life. And the answer that still is there is the same one that’s been there since I was 10 years old. I want to write. So what the hell is keeping me from it? Again… lack of self-confidence, fear of letting people get too close, fear of failure, rejection… etc. I’ve said this so often over the last few months, and I’ll say it again. Life. Is. Too. Short.

Someone suggested someday compiling this blog into a book of sorts. Along the lines of “Tuesdays with Morrie”- that kind of thing. And it just makes me laugh that my writing, which was something so intensely personal for so many years, was “discovered” for lack of a better word, because of Emily. I shake my head. Everything was always about her. But I guess this time I owe her one. She’s helped me discover myself. I’ve discovered more of who I am, and why I am the way I am. She’s always been the voice in my ear, encouraging me when I needed it, and putting me back in my place when I needed it. For awhile I thought I’d lost her. I’m starting to hear her again.
I can’t quite bring myself to go back and post those entries. Maybe I will sometime soon. Or maybe you’ll just have to wait for the book. . I guess I don’t have to tell you who it’s going to be dedicated to.

Another letter.....

Okay, another letter came from Hagerstown Community College addressed to Emily yesterday. Oh, I was royally ticked off. (See previous post) Before I could think, I had the phone in my hand and was furiously dialing ready to raise hell with the first person to answer the phone. My saving grace? No one answered. I called six times in a row, no answer. Then I had to go to work at Food Lion, so I had to give up for the day. Someone was watching out for me ( and the poor admissions people too!)

And then… I forgot about it this morning. It just dawned on me a little while ago that I haven’t yelled at anyone today. Aha! The admissions people at HCC! So I picked up the phone, dialed, and got someone from the admissions department. (Different from the last one I talked to.) And here I am ready to rip someone a new one---- and she was the nicest, most sincere, helpful person. Now tell me how do you yell at someone like that? She was so sympathetic when I told her why I was calling, and right away said that obviously, something was wrong somewhere. So she’s apologizing profusely, and asked if she could put me on hold while they figured it out. So she came back on after a few minutes (apologizing that I had to wait) and said they talked to the IT department and Emily is supposed to be removed from every mailing list. (Although if their IT dept is anything like ours, that doesn’t really give me warm fuzzies, but that’s not her fault.) And then she extended her sympathies again.

Doggone it- sometimes I think God does stuff like this to me on purpose, just to teach me a lesson. Ah well, lesson learned.

Passed over.... again.

This is a more toned-down post than what I wrote in my newly-acquired Live Journal (thanks to Ms. Diana :)..... but my boss is a jerk. First class, certifiable, card-carrying memeber of the jerk club. I wish Emily was here to bash my boss with me. She was definitely much better at it than I am. Of course, she used way more four-letter words than I do.

I have been passed over yet AGAIN for a promotion that I deserve. This is the second time in two years. And the kicker is that I have been doing the job for the last four. And not getting paid nearly enough for it. But that's my fault- I let them take advantage of me. Well no more. I'm dusting off the resume and getting out of here as soon as possible. Then maybe after I'm gone they will realize just how much I actually do around here. Arrrggggh!

I HATE being disliked for no reason. I can handle being disliked if I deserve it. 'Cause that usually means I dislike the person anyway. But for some reason, he has taken a dislike to me. And it's not even just me that thinks that- the entire department can tell. So at least I know that it isn't something that I am doing wrong. But it doesn't make it any easier to take. Especially since I consider myself to generally be some-what likeable. :(

So I officially am giving up. It is finally time to move on, after talking about it for the last however many years I've been unhappy here. Emily would be proud of me, I hope. It's goodbye Melissa the doormat and hello Melissa the---- well, I dunno who she is yet. I guess the next adventure is going to be finding her.

Funny story

Sara told me a funny story on Saturday.
Emily worked with her at Payless shoes for awhile. Sara said that Emily had marked on the calendar the whole weekend off for her birthday. The funny part? Emily quit at Payless in January.

an interesting conversation

Had an interesting conversation with my father yesterday. I’ve been agonizing over how/when/where to bring up the subject of possibly moving to South Carolina with them. I’ve been feeling guilty for even thinking about it- I just haven’t been sure if that’s fair to do that to them right now since it’s only been a few months since Emily died. But yet, I can’t stand the thought of being here a moment longer than I have to. And dreaming about moving down there and moving in with Lauren and Rachel for awhile makes it easier to get through the days. I called Lauren Sat. night after Emily’s party, and brought up how I wasn’t sure best to approach the subject. Her advice was that when the right opportunity arose- He would let me know. She’s usually right about these things- this time was no exception. Wasn’t expecting it so soon- but hey, I’ll take it. Satis est, right? It is enough.

Anyway, we were at Cracker Barrel yesterday after church. Mom was waiting with Grandma outside, and Dad and I were talking. He said something about our neighbor next door said to tell me to get my resume to him. Apparently he has a lot of contacts with a lot of businesses and stuff through his job. I said something to dad about that there just wasn’t anything open around here. (And in all honesty, I have looked for other jobs around here too.) Dad asked me how far I was willing to go. I kind of shrugged my shoulders, and didn’t really answer. Then he looked at me and point-blank asked, “Melissa, where exactly do you want to be?” Whoa. I asked him “honestly?” he nodded his head, and I said, “South Carolina.” And he said if that’s where I wanted to be, then that’s what I needed to do. Whoa. This coming from the same man who two years ago did everything he could to talk me out of it? I told him my concerns about leaving him and mom right now, and he said that although that wouldn’t be his first choice, I had to do what was right for me. Wow. Talk about a weight falling off of your shoulders! Now I feel like I can really look without feeling guilty or dishonest. I don’t know if he said anything yet to mom. I think she may be the one with more of a problem with it.

But I have also got to get out of here. I’ve been toying with the idea of moving down there for 4 years. It’s time to get off my duff and try and make it happen. Even Pastor Mike told me a few months ago when I went to talk to him that when a person usually talks about something for so long, it usually is a sign it’s something that they really want to do. And if God didn’t want me to try- I would think He would have put that desire to rest the last time, right? But each time I go there, it’s stronger. And now it’s almost all I think about. So I’m going to stop making excuses. I’m going to go home, and start sending out my resume like crazy. Tonight. No more, got to wait to talk to mom and dad, no more waiting until I get back from Poland….. starting tonight. And if it is God’s will, He’s going to have to make it happen. Oh, I hope it is. It’s the one thought that makes me happy these days.

Pieces

I'm not even sure where to start.... it's been such a strange, strange day.

I read Emily's wall on her facebook. One of her friends posted a quote that just had me in tears:
"when you lose someone and you're not expecting it, you dont lose her all at once, you lose her in pieces over a long time"

Ohhhhh.... that is so very true. That is exactly what this has been like. And today was another piece. Today was the first piece of the "Firsts". The first birthday, the first holiday, the first anniversary. It was a piece of all the big events that she won't be here for. Other people's birthdays. Anniversaries. Weddings. Graduations. Today felt like losing a piece of her.

Tissue Alert

Okay, so maybe it's silly- but I bought Emily a birthday card. Two actually- a funny "Happy 21st" and a "Happy Birthday Sister" card.

Every birthday, someone always got the "Prize"- that was the person who found the mushiest card. Whoever made the birthday person cry, was that year's winner. Emily was the ultimate sappy card finder. But the kicker with her, was that every card she found was perfect- not sappy because she wanted to get the "Prize", but sappy because you knew she really meant it. Little stinker.

Well this year, I think I found a card that would have totally had her in tears. And since she can't read it, I have to make someone else cry besides myself. So I'm going to post my card. If you aren't up for tears today... you may not want to read it. But then again, sometimes tears help. A dear friend of mine tells me all the time to laugh when I need to laugh, but to let the tears flow when they need to.

(Front)

Because I have a sister,
I always know if I have food in my teeth
and which jeans look best on my butt
(and definitely which ones don't)!

Because I have a sister,
therapy costs me nothing,
is open at any hour,
and is available on speed-dial.

Because I have a sister,
I never apologize for a mood swing,
say, "I guess you had to be there,"
or shop all by myself.

Because I have a sister,
telling on each other
is now telling everything to each other
(and I mean everything).

(Inside)

Because I have a sister
I'll always know
the warmth of hugs and home.

I am who I am
because I have a sister...
and because it's you.
Happy Birthday


I'll spare you everything I wrote in the card, except this one paragraph.
"Emily, I am who I am because of you. Yes, the good and the bad. Having you as a sister shaped me into who I am today. I miss you everyday. You're in my heart forever."

Happy 21st Emily. This is so not the way this day was supposed to be. But I hope that the party in Heaven is beyond even what your wildest dreams ever were.

Like Diana said... Love Never Dies.

July 11, 2008

This bites.

'nuff said

Got to get out of here

I hate my job. I spend most of my days doing a whole lot of nothing- just pretending to look busy. And it’s not that I don’t have stuff to do… it’s just that it doesn’t interest me in the least. I don’t care, because it isn’t important. And it makes the days seem so incredibly long. But I can’t seem to help it. I tell myself everyday that I’m going to do better, but then I get here… and I simply don’t care again. I’ve got to get out of here.

I’ve been stressing the last week about how I’m going to ask my parents about moving to Columbia. And then it hit me the other day… I am 25 years old. I don’t have to ask for their permission. Heck, I could leave tomorrow if I really wanted to. (I’d never do that to them.) I mean, am I afraid they are going to say no? They can’t stop me. I guess the bottom line is I want their approval. But I don’t need their permission. I really feel like this time moving in with Lauren could be a reality. I think it’s doable. Since mom and dad loaned me part of Emily’s insurance money to pay off my credit cards, I don’t have all that debt hanging over my head. I owe them back of course, but it’s only one payment and no interest. So I can totally still do that, and pay Lauren rent. I’ve been paying mom and dad, so it’s really not going to “cost” me more. I just need a job. But even so—if I really, really work at saving up maybe three months salary, I could go ahead and move and find a job when I get there. I think it may be kinda hard to find one from here. But I don’t doubt that I could get a job pretty easily.

Moving is the only thing that makes my days seem bearable. I’m sitting here absolutely dreading the thought of coming back here tomorrow. And next week. And the week after. It’s like a tunnel that never, ever ends. I have got to get out of here. I want to go to the one place I feel happy and safe. I want to go to the one place I feel like I am home. I want to go to South Carolina. I can’t take another day here.

No more movies....

There are at least three movies I want to go see.

And I have no one to go with.

Damn Emily- she messed up everything.

Missing South Carolina

Somehow it was harder leaving Laurie’s this time. It’s funny because usually when I’m there I’m always thinking “I only have four more days until I have to leave”, or “only two days left”, or “I can’t believe I have to leave tomorrow.” But not so much this time. It’s like… I just got so used to being there, I wasn’t even dwelling on having to leave. Until Sunday afternoon, and then it was all I could think about. I wished I could have just stayed and not come back. It was about three o’clock before I finally left. And as Lauren and I stood in her kitchen and she hugged me, I started crying. Even she was getting weepy, and I’ve only ever seen her cry once before. Maybe it was just because it seems like so very long before I’ll be able to get back down there again- not until after the beginning of the year. Maybe it was because we’re both struggling with what we want to do with our lives, and it was comforting to commiserate together. Maybe because the last time I left her house, two days later my world fell apart. Whatever it was, it was just way too hard. Something about SC really calls to me. I feel like I’m home when I’m there. Every time I’m there it’s like that. We’ve been talking for years about me moving down there. Lauren’s already offered to let me stay with her. At first I was afraid I only wanted to because of them. And I know I can’t live with her forever. But I can still see myself making a life in Columbia. I just don’t know if I can do that to Mom and Dad right now. Is that selfish? I’m going to have to move out someday, is there ever a right time? Neither of them want to stay here in Greencastle forever either- I think they dislike it here as much as I do. And I can’t very well be in my 30’s and still living at home.

I need a change. I’ve needed a change for years, I was just too scared to leave my comfort zone. Now I’m too scared to stay there.

What I've been thinking about....

She promised me she would be better about taking care of herself. She promised me she wouldn’t leave me all alone. She didn’t keep that promise, and I almost hate her for it.

Some days I feel like I am out of my head. Like it’s happened to someone else, not me. In a weird way, it’s like I can disassociate myself from it. I comprehend it, but I just don’t want to believe it. But that feeling doesn’t last for too long, because reality has a cruel way of crashing back down on you.

One of Lauren’s friends was looking at my daisy tattoo on my foot, and asked who Emily was. It was the first time I’d met someone who didn’t know. The first time I got to explain the significance of the tattoo. That it was on my foot because that’s where she had one. And that I chose a daisy because it was her favorite flower and also because that’s what was on her foot. That the “live, laugh, love” was from the tattoo on her hip. Her name. And it didn’t hurt as much to explain as I thought. I thought it would hurt more…. I wondered if it should have hurt more.

I picked up the phone to call her the other day. Her number is still in my phone- I just can’t bring myself to hit that delete button. Or remove her from my speed dial. I carry her phone around in my purse. I don’t know why- I don’t want to switch phones and use it. I don’t even like it. (Actually, it’s more like I don’t think I could figure out how to use it. It has wayyy too many buttons.) And I know it’s silly to have a perfectly good phone just sitting there, but yet- there it sits.

When I turned 21, I bought myself a really pretty opal ring. Spent more than I really should have on it, but it was my present to myself and it made me feel better. I wear it all the time. Two weeks ago- I bought a simple ruby and diamond band. I figure it’s Emily’s birthday present… to myself. I wonder if I would have thought of doing something like that for her if she was still here. I like to think I might have, but the reality is; I probably wouldn’t have thought of it …. and that makes me feel almost a little worse somehow. I should have been a better sister. I should have done a lot of things differently. I just hope she knew how much I really did love her.

I can’t believe that Saturday is so close. Now more than ever, I REALLY wish I’d just stayed in South Carolina. If she was here, I would have been driven completely batty by now because of her incessant obsessing about “her day.” I’d have waited until the very last minute to buy her a gift. She would be begging for hints about what we all got her. She’d be obsessing about what she wanted to drink. Honestly, even if she was here, I’d probably still be dreading Saturday, simply because of all her drama. But given a choice, I’d so much rather be dreading it for those other reasons rather than the reason I dread it now.

Fears

I’m really nervous about going to Poland next month. Not about being there, or not knowing the language, or any of that. I’m looking forward to the trip itself. I think it’s going to be an awesome, amazing experience. Our team leader sent us some information about the families who will be living in the homes we are building. Their stories really touched my heart. Most of them are the ones that kind of fall through the cracks. They aren’t the poorest of the poor, yet for whatever reason they’ve fallen on some rough times. But because they make too much, they don’t qualify for government assistance. I’m looking forward to meeting these people, and I really feel like I’m being called to help. So that’s not what I’m nervous about. I’m scared to fly. I keep thinking, “what if something happens to the plane?” I know the statistics, and how many flights there are every hour without incident… but still, it happens. And I’m scared. Not really for myself- more for my family and friends. What if something happens to me so close on the heels of Emily? I don’t think our family could handle another tragedy right now. I know that sounds narcissistic, but it’s true. Not now. If there wasn’t so much money put into this, and the trip non-refundable, I think I’d back out. I’m being morbid, I know… but still. It could happen. I get an almost sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I think about flying there, and flying back. I’m trying to trust God- but I still can’t help but worry. And I know I can’t be afraid to live my life because of the “what-ifs”. If Emily hadn’t died, I’d still be nervous about flying- but I’d still go. But her death changed everything. Now I’m scared for different reasons.

Arrgh.

It's just too soon

I wish this week was over. I wish it was next week, because by then this party thing would be over. I am dreading Saturday. I don’t want to be there- I don’t want to deal with all those people. I don’t want to try and smile and pretend that I think this was a great idea. I hate it. It’s morbid. It’s weird. It’s going to be awkward. It’s too damn soon.

But what am I supposed to do? Have thrown a fit and said no? It’s obviously something that mom and dad feel that they need to do. So how selfish would I have been to have told the truth? I thought about making up an excuse to not be there--- but that would have made things worse. I hate family dynamics. But I just am dreading this stupid party. If Emily was here, we still would be having a party- and it just doesn’t seem right somehow. There would be alcohol, and Mom and Dad would constantly be on Emily’s case about her not being allowed to drink too much because of her diabetes. And Emily would be sulking because they were hovering, and sulking because it was her day and she’d be wanting to do what she wanted. I would probably be avoiding all three of them.

Now there’s going to be all that alcohol, no Emily, and me avoiding everyone.

How on earth am I going to make it through that awful day?????????

*Sigh*

I'm back from South Carolina. I got home late last night.... I miss it already. It's like I stepped out of the car, and all the worries and sadness and stress just fell right back on my shoulders. I missed my parents, but I sure didn't miss it here.

*sigh*

I miss that feeling of being happy. Will I ever be again?

birthday cards and root canals

okay, so I bought Emily a birthday card. Two actually... one funny "Happy 21st Birthday" card and a sappy sister card. Is that weird??

I don't know what I'm going to do with it. Write in it and save it? Mail it like you used to send letters to Santa?

*sigh*

I am dreading Saturday. I'd rather have a root canal. With no anesthesia. On both sides. With rusty instruments. By a dentist from an unreputable college and a questionable degree.

Breathing again

Yesterday was the first time I didn't wake up dreading facing the day. In fact, I didn't even realize yesterday was the first of the month until later in the day. I'm not sure if it bothers me more that I forgot... or that I'm relieved that I forgot.

I understand now why people move away after they've lost someone. I used to think maybe it was because they were trying to runaway and forget. (I used to think a lot of stupid things before this.) But that's not the case at all. I haven't forgotten Emily while I've been here in South Carolina. I still think about her everyday, and miss her everyday. I've already cried on poor Lauren's shoulder at least twice, and broke down on Teri when we went over to Uncle John's. But it's like... the intensity of the pain is somewhat muted here. Like someone just turned down the volume on the pain meter. There aren't reminders of her everywhere I look. There aren't reminders of her everywhere I go. When I meet and talk to people down here, Emily isn't the unspoken shadow hovering over my shoulder. I have not once gotten the pity look, and when someone asks "how are ya?", it's a whole 'nother meaning. I do miss my parents... but I do not want to go home. Maybe eventually it gets easier there too, I don't know. But what I do know is that right now, in this moment, I feel like I can breathe again.