My Troubled Memories...
I have to do this, I have to just get it out.
I can't describe how much you mean to me, there is no way to get around this for I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else. We've grown in friendship and through the hardship we have stayed strong, and stronger than ever before. No one will ever, ever know how it feels. What we have faced together, what we have gone through, what life and death feels like. It's the permanent scar that lays across your sunken skin. its the way the tear trickles down your cheek when its brought up.
We came so close, so close to loosing you. To the point that the you were knocking on deaths door. Knock, Knock. There's no way to describe it, seeing you disappear from what you use to be. I can't even bear to make myself remember those visits in the hospital when you laid out upon that white bed, so pure, yet your body ached in the poison that had gained its entrance into your blood. Slowly you were dying. I am blunt because its all true. And now as I write this I cry, for the memories are something which are so strong that I know no matter when or where I can always at the back of my mind just stop and think about that time nearly a year ago.
I know that I shouldn't be dwelling in the past especially with something that is so hard that it lays heavy upon my heart. You have no idea what it feels like to look into their eyes and see nothing but blank. They call it the shut down period, the bit that precedes before the end. The end of everything that you have lived for. I saw you looking at me through those eyes of darkness, and there was nothing in front or behind them. I remember how little I was told for fear of being too upset of everything that was going on.
It was just an ear ache, that’s all it was. How something little can turn to something so drastic that a bed be laid for you so that you can sit and watch them pass by. I remember so clearly that phone call at 2 in the morning, my head swaying with the weight of the lack of sleep already. I remember so clearly the women on the phone asking if I were Ian, but no I wasn't, I'm just the son. Come quick and be swift, things have moved on, she calls out their name and begs that you return to her side at once. It isn't good, isn’t good at all. I was left in my room, these four walls for company while they made the 15minute ride across the grounds between them and their beloved daughter.
I'm gasping for breathe, but nothing enters the lungs, no sign of life in them anymore. Cut and slice. Air. No longer to breath on one's own they sit and monitor. Beep. Beep. Tick. Tock. She slips and fall into the bleak darkness and I am left but to wonder when I shall get the chance to visit. It would be many days and nights to pass for me to get the privilege. I didn't know what to expect, I didn't know what I wanted to see.
Skin and bones and a memory that was slowly disappearing. Her organs had failed, wires, plugs, cuts and pin pricks struck across the body in too many ways than ever I thought possible. Arms were purple from the excessive pricks of needles, and the bag full insides lay to the side. Unable to talk, drifting to and fro I remember this so clearly. The break through when you were able to point to letters upon a board and spelling out the words "I'm scared" "I need water" "I feel dirty" "I love my family".. Tears are streaming down my face, I remember so clearly the letter she wrote to me, saying how she was missing me and how much she loved me. I cried as I do now when I got it. The letters came more, and the writing grew stronger, yet I noticed something, how she couldn't think between reality and dreams.
Before I knew what had hit me, Christmas was upon us, and still the body lays upon the bed. Christmas day, what a day to be spending confided in a small room. From school came a sack full of presents, brimming to and fro full of memories and presents and the cards that wished you to get well soon. The sack was massive, and the presents were everywhere, I remember, I laugh now, how someone had bought you a feather bower and how you wrapped it around your neck. You looked so ill, so thin, and you looked so happy. I'm glad that no picture exists of that day, for I doubt I would be able to look at them for fear of making an image so clear in my mind that I remember too well.
It took 2 hours to open all the presents, so many, and the rubbish built up. Then you drifted off to sleep, and started to talk in your sleep. This is the first time that I have ever bought this us, or have ever written this down before... you talked in your sleep, but not of words I have ever heard. You spoke in a language that made myself and father laugh, yet it continued all day. Then the worse came of all, when you awoke and continued to speak this talk, how you weren't yourself. Then suddenly you would cry out and have tears falling down those bony cheeks and crying that you didn't know what you were saying and how you kept on doing it. Again and again it happened. I began to fear the person that I love more than anyone else. How could I fear someone I loved?
You remember nothing of that day or any around that period of time, I see this as the better. For I have to live remembering all that you have forgotten, I can't just forget. Not anymore. I have been reminded tonight of everything that has ever happened to you, and I cry because of it. It is when you hear the words "Kay you were going to die" that I swallow the lump and let the tears roll. You have no idea what its like, seeing the one you love dying, in the way she did those 4 months.
Chest drains and operations, drugs and drugs and drugs once more. You rattled, you cry. I can't describe even after all this the intensity that I went through, I survived those months, and I am stronger because of it. Yet still I am reduced to nothing but a pool of salty tears when I remember what happened a year ago next month.
It's happened, I lost my sister, I cried to mother that all I wanted more than anything was to have a sister again, and I have now. And I am more grateful than I could ever be. Three times over and over she dyed and three times over and over the doctors saved her life.
I talk for the first time so much about something so sensitive because my dearest sister has gained an award for achievement at her school. She thinks its because of her illness that she has got the award, discussion was bought up, and this is how all of this comes about.
I have said it, and its gone. My sister I love. I nearly lost her, I won't loose her again. I love you Kay. End.
I can't describe how much you mean to me, there is no way to get around this for I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else. We've grown in friendship and through the hardship we have stayed strong, and stronger than ever before. No one will ever, ever know how it feels. What we have faced together, what we have gone through, what life and death feels like. It's the permanent scar that lays across your sunken skin. its the way the tear trickles down your cheek when its brought up.
We came so close, so close to loosing you. To the point that the you were knocking on deaths door. Knock, Knock. There's no way to describe it, seeing you disappear from what you use to be. I can't even bear to make myself remember those visits in the hospital when you laid out upon that white bed, so pure, yet your body ached in the poison that had gained its entrance into your blood. Slowly you were dying. I am blunt because its all true. And now as I write this I cry, for the memories are something which are so strong that I know no matter when or where I can always at the back of my mind just stop and think about that time nearly a year ago.
I know that I shouldn't be dwelling in the past especially with something that is so hard that it lays heavy upon my heart. You have no idea what it feels like to look into their eyes and see nothing but blank. They call it the shut down period, the bit that precedes before the end. The end of everything that you have lived for. I saw you looking at me through those eyes of darkness, and there was nothing in front or behind them. I remember how little I was told for fear of being too upset of everything that was going on.
It was just an ear ache, that’s all it was. How something little can turn to something so drastic that a bed be laid for you so that you can sit and watch them pass by. I remember so clearly that phone call at 2 in the morning, my head swaying with the weight of the lack of sleep already. I remember so clearly the women on the phone asking if I were Ian, but no I wasn't, I'm just the son. Come quick and be swift, things have moved on, she calls out their name and begs that you return to her side at once. It isn't good, isn’t good at all. I was left in my room, these four walls for company while they made the 15minute ride across the grounds between them and their beloved daughter.
I'm gasping for breathe, but nothing enters the lungs, no sign of life in them anymore. Cut and slice. Air. No longer to breath on one's own they sit and monitor. Beep. Beep. Tick. Tock. She slips and fall into the bleak darkness and I am left but to wonder when I shall get the chance to visit. It would be many days and nights to pass for me to get the privilege. I didn't know what to expect, I didn't know what I wanted to see.
Skin and bones and a memory that was slowly disappearing. Her organs had failed, wires, plugs, cuts and pin pricks struck across the body in too many ways than ever I thought possible. Arms were purple from the excessive pricks of needles, and the bag full insides lay to the side. Unable to talk, drifting to and fro I remember this so clearly. The break through when you were able to point to letters upon a board and spelling out the words "I'm scared" "I need water" "I feel dirty" "I love my family".. Tears are streaming down my face, I remember so clearly the letter she wrote to me, saying how she was missing me and how much she loved me. I cried as I do now when I got it. The letters came more, and the writing grew stronger, yet I noticed something, how she couldn't think between reality and dreams.
Before I knew what had hit me, Christmas was upon us, and still the body lays upon the bed. Christmas day, what a day to be spending confided in a small room. From school came a sack full of presents, brimming to and fro full of memories and presents and the cards that wished you to get well soon. The sack was massive, and the presents were everywhere, I remember, I laugh now, how someone had bought you a feather bower and how you wrapped it around your neck. You looked so ill, so thin, and you looked so happy. I'm glad that no picture exists of that day, for I doubt I would be able to look at them for fear of making an image so clear in my mind that I remember too well.
It took 2 hours to open all the presents, so many, and the rubbish built up. Then you drifted off to sleep, and started to talk in your sleep. This is the first time that I have ever bought this us, or have ever written this down before... you talked in your sleep, but not of words I have ever heard. You spoke in a language that made myself and father laugh, yet it continued all day. Then the worse came of all, when you awoke and continued to speak this talk, how you weren't yourself. Then suddenly you would cry out and have tears falling down those bony cheeks and crying that you didn't know what you were saying and how you kept on doing it. Again and again it happened. I began to fear the person that I love more than anyone else. How could I fear someone I loved?
You remember nothing of that day or any around that period of time, I see this as the better. For I have to live remembering all that you have forgotten, I can't just forget. Not anymore. I have been reminded tonight of everything that has ever happened to you, and I cry because of it. It is when you hear the words "Kay you were going to die" that I swallow the lump and let the tears roll. You have no idea what its like, seeing the one you love dying, in the way she did those 4 months.
Chest drains and operations, drugs and drugs and drugs once more. You rattled, you cry. I can't describe even after all this the intensity that I went through, I survived those months, and I am stronger because of it. Yet still I am reduced to nothing but a pool of salty tears when I remember what happened a year ago next month.
It's happened, I lost my sister, I cried to mother that all I wanted more than anything was to have a sister again, and I have now. And I am more grateful than I could ever be. Three times over and over she dyed and three times over and over the doctors saved her life.
I talk for the first time so much about something so sensitive because my dearest sister has gained an award for achievement at her school. She thinks its because of her illness that she has got the award, discussion was bought up, and this is how all of this comes about.
I have said it, and its gone. My sister I love. I nearly lost her, I won't loose her again. I love you Kay. End.