This month, I have had the urge to pick up my phone and call you. Just to have that two hour long free flow of words between us.
So much I would tell you.
I realize, this is going to happen to me the rest of my life. I got the boys key chain urns for your ashes. I’m going to get Dylan a little tag that says. “My Hero”. Jake’s will say “My Immortal”. I’ll get Mik her necklace around Valentines day because it is more expensive. Hers will say, “SnS”, as will mine. Mine will be a lover’s heart. Not that we were lovers, but you were my soul mate and I loved you so fucking deeply. I really learned so much about unconditional love by having you as my friend. True besties, are closer than lovers in a way because unlike some of my lovers, you knew everything, and the same it was with my knowledge of you and some of your lovers, or would be, should have been, your lovers. Mik’s will be a mother and child embrace. She loved the one I picked out for her.
Mik is driving. Has a job, bought herself a car and is living with her BF. Not Mason. Mason blew it with her, she busted him cheating because he left a message session open on his phone. Her BF is the tall lanky kid she went to his prom with.
Jake is with a new girl. I don’t know her name. I’ve not met her, but she has helped him feel something good again, since you died. The whole drama with baby mama, and her shit really fucked Jake up for a while. So did losing you. I am happy to see him smile and he tells me all the time, “I Love you Auntie!” He warms my heart with how giving he is with his love.
Dylan has been a steady moving ship. He’s so mellow and level headed, till he’s not. I don’t think he loses it very often anymore and when he has lost it, guess who is always involved, yanking his chain? Yep. Jake. But they are so close. Jake definitely loves his big brother. It really is something to see the tenderness between them at times. Dylan, I worry about at times because I can’t imaging him not flashing back on finding you, picking you up and driving to the ER like a bat out of hell, only to have the hospital send you to Plaza Medical Center.
So much time slipped by between the start of your stroke, and getting you the proper medical treatment you needed. I wouldn’t feel such a loss, had you not filled a part of my life so completely. I love, that even as you were fighting to die, we shared laughter. I love that even as you were fighting to die, you KNEW I had your back. I love that even as you fought to die, I KNEW your thoughts and feelings by looking into your eyes. My beautiful soulmate, how I miss your laughter and love. I can’t believe in four evenings, it will be two years since I last heard your voice and words.
I have been teary as of late, and I accept certain times of the year will hurt more.
No one has forgotten Tristan. No one but your mother communicates with him because she and What’s His Name are thick as thieves. Imagine that.
Love you forever.
What is it I want to say to her?
She’s been gone over a year now, and I still miss her every fucking day. The pain hasn’t gone away, but it has lessened some.
There are just so many things I would have told her in 365 plus days. Most of my year has been really shitty, because I have been dealing with losing her. The loss of her so dwarfed any loss I have ever known before.
It dwarfed the loss of practically everything. In a way, I lost myself. The me I had become, the open, loving, happy, and hopeful person. I was a person living with intent, and doing the things I was creating in my life and losing her just…FUBAR. In all ways.
I’m still here. I am still living and though I am happy, I am depressed. I don’t want to stay in this place. The loss of her was so, so deep. I truly feel most people don’t understand it. Yes, she was my best friend, but she was so much more. She was my sister, at times my mother, and at times my kid. She was my soul mate and I never understood that, till that moment I told her as much as she lay there on life support. At least, to my clouded and blacked out memories of those 11 days in Texas, she was still on life support at that point. What room were we in? NICU or Hospice? I really don’t remember.
I remember in NICU, walking into her room and it was empty. My heart started beating out of my chest. I thought she had died. I don’t even remember why she wasn’t in her room when I got there, I just remember them telling me she had been taken to someplace and she would be back.
I remember going into the Emergency room, after we removed the life support, after I asked her what she needed. Her eyes looked at mine and I knew, she needed/wanted life. I asked her as much, “You want to live huh?” I remember her responding with a slight nod and tears. I remember panicking and asking her if she wanted me to get the doctors, nurses and, machines back? She responded with a negative nod. I asked her, “What are you going to do, just fight till you can’t fight anymore?” She, nodded yes. I replied that I was there to hold her hand. I remember we cried together. I remember walking the halls later and just wanting to scream my mother fucking lungs out and never stop. It was in my head and my heart and it just needed out. I had NO CLUE how to process what was happening before my eyes. I found myself in the ER, falling apart, crying that my best friend was in NICU dying and I didn’t know what to do. They made me fill out paperwork. Eventually, I left. I just got up and walked out after a while, sitting in a room, crying. I walked the halls. I sneaked outside and smoked a joint. I went back to her.
I remember so much, but it’s foggy, blurred, blacked out.
I remember that sound in my head, at that final meeting with doctors and the final MRI results. I remember asking if once the ventilator, catheter, and attendants started, would there ever be life without them. I remember being told no. I remember the doctor saying her reality would be fuzzy and dream-state like, forever. I remembered her coming to me the night before in that not asleep, not awake state. Showing me myself, leaning over her in the hospital bed earlier that day. I could see the shape of my long hair, under Dylan’s Carhardt hat. I knew it was myself and I knew it was how she was seeing me. Then there was that sound in my head. It was the collective sound of everyone in that room knowing she was coming off life support. It was the sound of comprehension. It was the sound of everything secure, being destroyed. It was loud, ripping, wailing, deep and long in duration.
I began typing this over three weeks ago. So sad I was on the day I was writing, I left it in draft at “I remember that sound in my head…” Here I sit, 1 year, 1 month and 1 day after your death, wondering if you would be proud of me for still being here. Wondering if I am crazy, because I know you so well, that when other people say, “She wouldn’t want you to mourn forever.” I have to try not to laugh at them. I think you would have secretly loved that I loved you so much it wrecked me. I think you would approve of the depths of my grief and how I have been unable to step beyond it. I think you would think, it was appropriate and that your human form would have been saddened at it, yet loved it. Now, however, I wonder if you would be proud of me for wanting to get back on track with where I was?
I’ll always be sad that you left. My life will never be the same, but I have definitely learned much, in many ways.
And I miss you like crazy. Sometimes I still can’t breathe.
How can this be?
The two oldest are coming over Christmas Eve and staying the night. We are going to make your fondant and chill Auntie style. Christmas day, I will make them a turkey dinner.
It seems to make sense to spend the day together and I hope that till they are married, and have familes to be with, they continue to spend the day with me.
Is that selfish of me? I know the day will suck for them and can’t imagine them wanting to be with dad and step monster. I know the say will suck for me and I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts of losing you.
I really miss you and hate that you fucking died. I’m also tired of being a functioning destroyed person. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let anyone get close to me again.
In two days, your memorial happens.
I sat at your bedside for eleven days. I said so many things, told you how loved you were, took a list in with me the last night I saw you to say every last thing I could think of saying and I still feel like I haven’t said goodbye.
At the time I remember saying I’d never say goodbye because you’ll always be with me. I feel like I’ll be going to watch other people say goodbye, but my heart knows in some way, I’ve got to say a kind of letting go goodbye. You will still always be with me, but I’m going to have to cut a cord or something. I don’t feel like I’ll ever have closure or peace, but I’m desperately craving and seeking both.
There is so much love.
The birthday card you gave me the second year we were friends, you signed it Sick n Sin and told me you loved me. The day I finally stopped lying to you about my bruises, stitches, and marks. Unconditional was your support and love. When The Girl went away. Not once did you tell me to get over it, move beyond it or, put it away. You didn’t care that ten years went by and I was still hurt, angry, self-destructive and not done grieving. You never asked me to hurry it up. You never asked me not to be angry at Jack, or hurt by the same. When The Girl came back, you were as happy for me, as I was. When I talked to you about my fears, what DO I talk to her about, and what do I NOT talk to her about. You understood and supported me in NOT bringing up that Superbowl Sunday, till she seemed ready to remember or talk about it.
When I wound up with The Knuckle Dragging Face Breaker and he broke my face, you didn’t judge me. You didn’t ask if I didn’t see the red flags or tell me how fucking stupid I was for moving in with another abuser. You told me he was an asshole, that you would like to put your concealed weapons permit to use, and that you loved me. When I told you, the night you had the god-damned-mother-fucking-fucking-fucking-fucking stroke, that I regretted not making a police report, you reminded me that I could still do it, and you would support me through it, because…you loved me.
When I wound up talking to Mr. Yummy again, you were happy for me, and you because you got to have a sex life, vicariously through me. When I was on my way to his house, that first time again after fifteen years, and I took the wrong turn and was freaking out, you were reminding me to breathe, and that you loved me. When I told you the next day about the previous night and how nice it was, and then about him still having my hemp shampoo after 15 years, you laughed and told me you KNEW that it meant he still had feelings for me and you KNEW there was still a seed there for the love we once had. I didn’t think twice about you saying that till I was in Texas after the fucking, fucking, fucking stroke and I found the hemp hand lotion I had given you 15 years ago was still in your drawer. I knew instantly that you saved the bottle because I gave it to you, and you loved me.
There’s so much love.
I think of you every day. I try to think of the good times, the fun, the laughs, then special quiet times we had, the wake n bakes, the trashed dancing. Honestly though…the shit is still flinging itself off the fan blades 7 months later.
I think of the many examples I saw in Texas that just brought such absolute pain to me. When your medication was withheld, and you were in fucking pain because someone ELSE had an issue with you having morphine too often. I mean heaven forbid you might get addicted as you lay there dying in pain. I asked the staff when you were last given pain management and was told 5 hours. I didn’t know if I should choke “HER”, or the staff, but you can damn well make sure I told them to give it to you, and they did. Knowing you were photographed in NICU really pissed me off and I wonder all the time, if you were aware when it was done, because if you were, you were fucking hurt and pissed off by that. You would have never violated anyone like that when they were hooked up to life support. You’d have bitched at the person and insist it was deleted. I saw so much and learned so much, and I realize now why you never mixed certain people.
I more than ever understand your pain, why we were the best of friends and family, why you did some of the things you did. I am so sorry I couldn’t fix your pain any more than you were able to fix mine.
But it was you and it was me. We were so close in spite of our wounds. I know that I’ll never have a friend like you again, and I am OK with that because you were my kindred, sacred, soul-mate. I was so lucky to have found you, and to be part of each others world for 25 years of our lives.
I am having such a hard time without you girl. I got blocked from Facebook, because of that illegal name I had. I never used my real name when signing up and regardless of the fact some people have REASONS for anonymity when a social media service makes it easy for someone who broke your face to find you. I refuse to give them my real name, so I guess no more Facebook for me. It’s been almost a week. I don’t really miss it and find it really fucking funny that no one has noticed me gone. Today though, I just realized that this will only make it easier for me to isolate myself, not pick up my phone, not reach out.
I’m pretty sick too. I think I might have pneumonia. I know I should go to the doctor, and should have a week ago when I coughed up a mouthful of bright, fresh blood after a coughing fit that pushed my parting gift rib injury from my ex-husband, back out of whack. Mr. Yummy said he thought I hemorrhaged something in my throat while hacking. Since my throat immediately hurt afterwards, I believe him. But still, I haven’t gone to the doctor.
I am not in crisis, but I’m not here. Part of me is just dead. I don’t know how to “be” without you, because you were such a part of me. I was closer with you, than any romantic relationship I have ever been in. You were just, part of me. You still are, I just don’t “feel” you anymore because I am dead or in pain. Is this ever going to end?
I love you and I miss you.