I was thinking about the night you died all day today. It will be two weeks tomorrow since you left. Two long, miserable weeks. How can fourteen days feel like fourteen minutes and fourteen decades all at the same time? I am not understanding life at all right now. That's probably my own damn fault. I mean, I did break up with God the night you died so maybe I am just on my own until I find a way to repent. I sort of want to repent but I am just too angry right now. I'm pretty sure we will get back together someday. I do love Him. I am pretty sure He loves me too. I am just so sad.
I waited all day Monday by your bedside. I held your hand and stroked your forehead. Every time I found myself alone with you, I laid my head on your pillow and whispered in your ear. Did you hear me? Do you remember? I told you how much I loved you, how proud I was to have you for my baby sister. I said some things I had always wanted to tell you but had never found the courage to voice. Were you surprised to hear me say you had always been my closest friend, the one I admired and wanted to please the most. Did it make you happy to hear how much I loved you and how I had always wished I was more like you? Were you shocked that I wasn't always angry with all your constant butting in, that I needed you? I still need you.
With less than an hour of sleep on Monday, Tuesday arrived. That night Char and I went to your house to shower and change. The house felt so empty and cold. I looked around and everything looked the same but nothing felt the same. Nothing will ever feel the same again. We weren't there but fifteen minutes when the call came. Get back to the hospital now!
Within minutes we were there. It seemed as if we flew. I remember standing in the doorway, your room crowded with your besties and then the sea of friends slowly parted so I could walk in. Before I could get to you, Cher put her arms around me and said, "Mar, she's gone."
I just remember hearing some lunatic screaming and yet I didn't feel anything other than Cher's arms. I remember watching my purse fall to the ground in slow motion, feeling my knees buckle and realizing I was the lunatic.
Did I embarrass you when I laid on the bed, wrapped myself around you and begged you to stay with me? I know, I certainly felt embarrassed and yet I couldn't stop myself. It was as if I was watching a really bad Mexican novella. No bueno!
When the nurse tried to comfort me, I just felt worse. She told me she saw you “rally” every time Char and I were in the room. She said you were waiting for us to leave those few short moments so you could go. She said she sees people do it all the time because it’s too hard for them to leave sometimes with the people they love most in the room. I’m pretty sure that’s when I laid back on your bed and F-bombed you. I’m sorry for that. It just made me really angry that you didn’t want me there because I wanted to be there. I needed to be there. I’m just a jerk. Seriously, what kind of a person F-bombs their dead sister?
Then, when the anger and pain and loneliness was more than I could handle, I kissed your forehead repeatedly and left the room. I hurried to the elevator and quickly found my way out of that horrid place. Did you see me in the parking lot in crappy Salinas in the middle of the night? Did you hear me yelling at God?
“YOU TOOK MY BABY SISTER!! YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!! I AM BREAKING UP WITH YOU!!”
Did you see the look on the faces of those nurses coming out of the parking garage? I know I scared them to death. I’ll be sorry for that someday too. Just not today.
I miss you, where’d you leave your drugs and can I have them,
PS……please tell God I’m sorry.