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.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
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.
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?????????
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?????????
Monday, July 7, 2008
*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?
*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.
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.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
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
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
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
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*
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*
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Pretending
I have spent two months, 15 days and 22 1/2 hours pretending I am fine.
I am anything but.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
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)
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.
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.
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.
Friday, June 13, 2008
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.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, June 9, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
"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.
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.
Monday, June 2, 2008
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.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
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. :)
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. :)
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
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.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, May 19, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
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.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Monday, May 12, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
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
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
Friday, May 9, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
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.”
“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.”
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
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.
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…..
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, May 5, 2008
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.
Friday, May 2, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
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.
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*
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