Its dark here
I haven't really posted much here lately, I really wish I had been doing so, because some days I feel like I'm at wits end.
In 4 hours exactly, it will be 1 month since she passed away.
And I still can't bring myself to grips with the fact that she's not here.
Who's going to read silly gossip magazines with me
Who is going to have nail painting sessions with me?
Who will help me decorate my first house now?
Whois going to tell me that everyone else is wrong?
I have a feeling this is going to be a long rambly post, so if you are tired of those...don't read on...
I feel like she isn't gone...that she's still there. But every time I go to the cemetary, reality hits me so hard. I go there everytime I am home...with my mom. We buy her favorite flowers and put them at her grave site.
My sister, not even living a quarter of her life. And I am so mad at that.
Why? I know I can't ask...I'm tired of people telling me that.
It gets worse though, my coworker passed away last weekend...he fell ill right at the same time my sister did. A girl I work with...her nephew passed away suddenly this Monday. He was 8 months old.
I don't get it. I don't understand. Why? Why them? Why? All my sister deserved was the best, and she didn't get it. She deserved to live as much as any of those other transplant patients. Why her out of all of those success stories? Why did she have to be the 10%.
It's not fair. It's not what is supposed to happen. I feel like I am never going to get over this.
Every night I cry or go into fits because I just keep replaying everything in my head. I keep seeing the stupid vitals monitor show her pulse at zero and that stupid horrible flat line sound.
And I keep thinking about my dads story. How he and my mom went back in there after they took everything off of her, and he kissed her forehead...and tears fell from her eyes. It makes me worried.
Worried she was afraid. They told us she could be taken off sedation and put on morphine so she could talk to us. Part of ne is glad we didn't so I wouldn't have to see her struggle, like I know she would have. Part of me isn't because I wish she knew we were there with her the whole time, that we never gave up on her.
I keep wondering...was she afraid? Did she know we were there? Did she feel alone, Did she want to keep fighting. I want to know. And I can't know. And the logic and reason person inside me always wants to know why. But I can't know and I am struggling.
I still don't know what my purpose is anymore. Why did this happen? What is this supposed to tell us? Why now? After she was given new life, why did this end up the way we thought it never would? She even though it was a miracle that she was transplanted and given a 2nd chance.
Why was she taken away from us? Why did this happen? I'm tired of people giving me cliched reasons as to why.
I will never get to go home and hang out with her anymore. When I do go home I sit and cry for hours in her room. This weekend I have to unpack all of the things she had that were moved from her old house.
All she wanted was us, her boyfriend she loved like crazy, her puppers, and to live life. She never got to go on, to experience her second chance.
Half of the time I think I can go back and fix this, and we can make it so she's okay. But we can't. I wish they had paid more attention, I wish they had cared more.
This is my sister's favorite time of year. I feel like I can't do certain things without her or ever again. I feel like the earth has stopped moving and we can't go on.
I'm tired of my family being in pain, having bad breaks. We are good people, why did this happen.
Sometimes, and I hate saying this, I wish we could trade places. She deserved that 2nd chance, she appreciated all the small simple things that I constantly whined about and took for granted. She was happy even when she was sick, yet I always tried to find something to be miserable about. I feel bad saying it as well because she was the baby, "mommy's girl", and I have always never gotten along with my mom. I wish it was me. I hate saying that but I can't help it, even if I know its a terrible thing to say.
I feel so alone right now, my family is several miles away and so is my boyfriend. Sticking it out at night is becoming harder and harder. I wish I could wake up from this nightmare, or go back in time and make it better.
In 4 hours exactly, it will be 1 month since she passed away.
And I still can't bring myself to grips with the fact that she's not here.
Who's going to read silly gossip magazines with me
Who is going to have nail painting sessions with me?
Who will help me decorate my first house now?
Whois going to tell me that everyone else is wrong?
I have a feeling this is going to be a long rambly post, so if you are tired of those...don't read on...
I feel like she isn't gone...that she's still there. But every time I go to the cemetary, reality hits me so hard. I go there everytime I am home...with my mom. We buy her favorite flowers and put them at her grave site.
My sister, not even living a quarter of her life. And I am so mad at that.
Why? I know I can't ask...I'm tired of people telling me that.
It gets worse though, my coworker passed away last weekend...he fell ill right at the same time my sister did. A girl I work with...her nephew passed away suddenly this Monday. He was 8 months old.
I don't get it. I don't understand. Why? Why them? Why? All my sister deserved was the best, and she didn't get it. She deserved to live as much as any of those other transplant patients. Why her out of all of those success stories? Why did she have to be the 10%.
It's not fair. It's not what is supposed to happen. I feel like I am never going to get over this.
Every night I cry or go into fits because I just keep replaying everything in my head. I keep seeing the stupid vitals monitor show her pulse at zero and that stupid horrible flat line sound.
And I keep thinking about my dads story. How he and my mom went back in there after they took everything off of her, and he kissed her forehead...and tears fell from her eyes. It makes me worried.
Worried she was afraid. They told us she could be taken off sedation and put on morphine so she could talk to us. Part of ne is glad we didn't so I wouldn't have to see her struggle, like I know she would have. Part of me isn't because I wish she knew we were there with her the whole time, that we never gave up on her.
I keep wondering...was she afraid? Did she know we were there? Did she feel alone, Did she want to keep fighting. I want to know. And I can't know. And the logic and reason person inside me always wants to know why. But I can't know and I am struggling.
I still don't know what my purpose is anymore. Why did this happen? What is this supposed to tell us? Why now? After she was given new life, why did this end up the way we thought it never would? She even though it was a miracle that she was transplanted and given a 2nd chance.
Why was she taken away from us? Why did this happen? I'm tired of people giving me cliched reasons as to why.
I will never get to go home and hang out with her anymore. When I do go home I sit and cry for hours in her room. This weekend I have to unpack all of the things she had that were moved from her old house.
All she wanted was us, her boyfriend she loved like crazy, her puppers, and to live life. She never got to go on, to experience her second chance.
Half of the time I think I can go back and fix this, and we can make it so she's okay. But we can't. I wish they had paid more attention, I wish they had cared more.
This is my sister's favorite time of year. I feel like I can't do certain things without her or ever again. I feel like the earth has stopped moving and we can't go on.
I'm tired of my family being in pain, having bad breaks. We are good people, why did this happen.
Sometimes, and I hate saying this, I wish we could trade places. She deserved that 2nd chance, she appreciated all the small simple things that I constantly whined about and took for granted. She was happy even when she was sick, yet I always tried to find something to be miserable about. I feel bad saying it as well because she was the baby, "mommy's girl", and I have always never gotten along with my mom. I wish it was me. I hate saying that but I can't help it, even if I know its a terrible thing to say.
I feel so alone right now, my family is several miles away and so is my boyfriend. Sticking it out at night is becoming harder and harder. I wish I could wake up from this nightmare, or go back in time and make it better.