I’m sure by now you are aware that Seth committed suicide last week. Have you seen him? If not, please go find him and ask why he would do such a thing when so many loved and cared about him. I just don’t understand. I don’t know if I ever will. I’ve thought about suicide on and off throughout the years especially knowing people who have made that choice. I’ve always had the same two thoughts: Sometimes it would definitely be easier than what I am going through. I could never do that to my family.
By the way, Char thinks we killed you. She thinks all the morphine and whatever else they had us pumping into you those last few days is what actually did you in.
“No Marla, I really think we killed her with all those drugs. That’s why she’s mad at me and not talking to me.”
“Char! First of all, she was always mad at you because that was Kelly and she is not talking to you because she is dead, you idiot. Secondly, she was dying from effin cancer eating her alive so even if we did give her so much morphine it killed her, well, so what? Would you rather she would have had two extra hours of horrendous suffering without all the drugs? I definitely do not want you in charge when my time comes. Please, just let my kids pour a bottle of pills in me, wash it down with a beer and then go have a party. Seriously!”
“We need to go see the Long Island Medium. I need to hear from Kelly.”
“Wait, I think I just got a message from her for you. “Charrrrr…..you are an idiotttttt.” There, now give me fifty bucks for my services.”
Ever since you died, Char has been hell-bent on going to Long Island to see that gal on TV. We are not going. First, if God wanted us to talk to dead people would he really charge us for it? Secondly, I talk to you every day and I am pretty sure you have talked back to me through dreams and such. Maybe it’s not actually you, maybe its God just trying to get through to me or maybe it’s my incredibly vivid imagination or maybe it’s all the drinking I have been doing lately. I have no flippin idea. All I do know is this: I aint payin to talk to dead people!
I am thinking, however, of paying for some counseling. I am isolating myself more and more from people and the things that use to be important to me. I find myself crying more not less and not caring about much. When I’m at work or with people, nobody knows because I am good at faking it. I laugh, joke around, and act pretty much like I always did. I think. It’s when I’m alone that I notice the difference. My thoughts are so dark. I cry. A lot. My eating is out of control again and I am putting on weight. I don’t want to see anyone or go anywhere. I don’t answer phone calls, emails or letters. I just want to be left alone.
I have people in my life whom I love very much that are going through absolutely hellacious things right now. Things that no person should ever have to face. Things that bring me to my knees crying, “Really God? Really!” I watch as they also cry out to Him but with hope and faith that there is a purpose in all this suffering and I feel ashamed. One lousy dead sister and I crumble and cave and doubt. One stupid dead sister and I stop breathing. Stop living. Stop trying or caring. You might have been right all along, Kel. Maybe there really is something wrong with me.
Please tell Mom I said Happy Mother’s Day. Tell her I miss her and I wish she was here more than ever. It doesn’t feel quite fair to have to give up my mother and my little sister. But like Mom always said, who said life is fair? Who indeed!
I've been thinking all morning about a few of the other things Mom use to say to me all the time and I started to smile because I realized you said them to me too. All. The. Time.
"For heaven's sake! Look at yourself. Go put some makeup on."
"Marla! Really! What will people think?"
"Stop being so dramatic. Have you lost your mind?"
"Just because you feel that way, do you have to let the world know?"
I miss you, Kel. Everyday.