Thursday, November 3, 2011

Routine.

You don't know when people are going to leave you forever. It's part of the routine, if you knew, everything would be different. If you knew you could save, change the course of fate forever.
There are the types of leaving you can't change, even if you knew. Even if I knew, what could I have done?
Nothing.
And I guess that's the lesson learned. I guess that's what we all need to get over. It isn't us, is it? It isn't us who brings death. It i the way it is supposed to be, I guess one might call it fate.
It seems unfair how much life I have, when others are out, done, for good here. It seems unfair that some people (like me) have such a deep understanding. That other people, have it even harder. And the worst that some people don't know me. That don't know them. that don't know themselves. 
At least I learned that lesson now, and not later. That when other people leave, I won't be surprised. 
I remember that moment in the hospital, I wondered "What if I don't open my eyes again, once they are closed." I remember my Aunt there, with me, in the hospital, a place where she now spent her days. She came anyway. She brought me a book that I will never read. About an ugly dog changing the way a family looked at the world. I will always have that book; because even the smallest things in life can make the biggest difference. So when I watched that liquid flow into my arm wondering if I could die, I didn't know how selfish I was. Because I didn't know that five months later I would be sitting on the same level two of the same hospital, on the window seat, looking over St. George, a town that didn't change even when my Aunt died. My friend. I remember my Dad's voice, cracked, said "She's gone".  How could I worry about my own death when at the time my Aunt was so close to her own. 
I remember how my Aunt loved Thanksgiving. She made me love Thanksgiving. I remember the tables being set up in her front room, with those tablecloths and football and my Dad being so happy. That was before Granny died, before my Aunt had a heart attack. Before there were heart aches to be dealt with. 
I remember being at my Aunts house before she died. She was crying. She was crying and saying "This is a punishment." "God is punishing me for keeping her."
God wasn't punishing you Aunt Teresa. I told you that. And I can say that I told you so. 
Liana loves you so Aunt Terrie. She talks about you all of the time. About that hole she can't fill in her heart. Kylah loves you too. I remember sitting in the carpet at my house holding that three year old in my arms as she finally let out her thoughts. "Terrie isn't coming back, is she Sierra?" 
I remember how my voice finally choked out. "Not for awhile Kylah."
I remember Kylahs's sobs as well.
Kylah thinks the same as me.
I think that is why I love her so much. Because sometimes I have to ask myself "Terrie isn't coming back, is she Sierra?" And I always tell myself, "Not for awhile."
I remember that the night before she died, sleeping with Kylah next to me, listening to her breathing and appreciating the life me and her share. I thought of how lucky. I remember playing with Kylah's hair.

And later. At college I read an entry from Liana about Stargazer Lilies. I feel spoiled, because I don't hardly share a fraction of her pain. Liana, I sit in the grass too, for as long as I can, to come back to reality.
I remember sitting next to my granny as she told me she loved me. I remember her, there, trying to spend time with us at the last family gathering she would be attending. I remember the taste of pizza, of sandwiches. 
Liana wanted you to be at her graduation Aunt Teresa. I remember you telling the doctors "Please wait for surgery, I have to be here two more days for my daughters graduation." That wasn't an option, and I think we all felt your spirit there that day. I remember the choir singing "For Good" and the lyrics "Because I knew you I've been changed For Good."
I sat by Gina at the funeral, listening to her cry. At the cabin? Remember? She didn't mean it. She is getting married now.  
I think about death everyday. I don't ponder on the sadness I ponder about what life would be like now, if none of it ever happened. I think about the moments I thought I myself was going to die. I wonder if you felt that feeling too. But after I wonder that I know that you were at peace. 
I know that because on Level Two of the hospital we had visited you in so many times before my Dad cried in front of me for the first time. He loved you so much. He sobbed and sobbed. And so did Liana. I don't ever want to see my family like that again. How unsettling it was. That was because we had been broke. It will be a long time until we are all back together again, at thanksgiving on the porch. But it will come.
I can't stop thinking about this lately and I guess i am writing it down so I don't forget. I start to forget things, like your laugh and I have to think harder to remember. I always think about you telling stories. About you singing and your collection of music on the wall. I listen to Elvira sometimes to try and imagine you and grandma and granny singing it at the top of your lungs. "elvira! my hearts on fire! for elvira!" I remember how you loved our dogs, and how you would stay up so late to spend time with me during those sleepovers. We played GoldFish at 3 in the morning. I remember you at my birthday parties.  I miss you.
This Thanksgiving is different. We all went separate ways this year. 
I don't think we can face gathering together on your favorite holiday.
That's why this year I think about you, about how great you are.

You don't know when people are going to leave you forever.
It's part of a routine.

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