Hey Kel,
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.
“Really, Char?”
“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.
Mar
