Another Day Down

Today I visited the cemetery for the first time since her burial. It was tough, much tougher than I expected. As I drove through the gates I felt an overwhelming sense of urgency. I needed to get to the grave immediately. I don’t know why. Quite honestly it isn’t going anywhere. The drive to her grave seemed to take forever, even though it could not have been more than three minutes. Panic. Desperation. Fear. Everything began to spiral out of control with each passing tombstone. Once I got to her grave I stopped in my tracks. I just stood there, looking down at the grave, thinking this is it. This is what it has all become. A small piece of land holding her remains. Her final resting place. It knocked the wind out of me. I could not breathe. I felt like I had just been slammed into a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour. I cried for a long time. I left a rose. A red rose, her favorite flower. The arrangement that was on her casket was there…above ground, marking her final resting spot. It was dead. Just like her. It was hard to see. Just like it was hard to see her laying in the casket at the visitation. Very hard. I wish I had not seen the flowers from the casket. Just another reminder of what was and what is and what will be. Another reminder of the passing of time and what will never be given back or returned. Another day down. The pain not any less, but another day down.

I was given back the clothes she died in. It turns out they were not buried with her. It makes me wonder what would have happened to them had I not called and asked. The thought of them simply being thrown out was too cold. At first I thought that if they were buried with her…it would be ideal. They would be with her and I would not have to see them again. Then when I found out they were still at the funeral home I wanted them. They were her favorite pajamas. She picked them out the night before she died. At one point she wanted to sit up, once she was sitting up she wanted to change her clothes. I helped her because that was what she wanted. Even though she was wearing clean pajamas already. Every time she showered or changed clothes I washed them immediately incase she wanted to wear them again, she would have them. I was obsessed. I washed everything immediately. Clothes, socks, bedding. Everything was clean within an hour and a half of her using it. Just incase she wanted it again. So I grabbed all her pajamas and she felt each one and looked at them closely. Blue, blue, yellow, pink and so on…. She picked yellow. She said they were her favorite ones. She died in them. Now I have them. They are in a plastic bag. I peeked in and saw them, can sort of see them through the bag even. I can’t take them out yet. Too painful.

I found out tonight that my step-sisters were making jokes and laughing during the final prayers and blessing of holy water at the final visitation. They were sitting in the back, I did not see them. They are lucky I didn’t. Damn lucky. They would now be six feet under as well and I would be in jail. I need to confront them, but not now…the anger is too intense and raw. It would only end in violence, yelling and screaming. I know there are two sides to every story. But how can it not be true? No one would make something up this crass and vulgar. If it is true, it confirms what I already believe…they are ugly people with ugly hearts and ugly souls. They could give the step-sisters from Cinderella a real run for their money. Again…time will tell. If I have learned one thing in my 30 years of life it is this…in time every secret will be revealed. It may take days, months, years…but the truth will come to light. No doubt about it. Trust me.

I broke down tonight. Crying beyond control. I was looking at photos. They all seemed as if they were taken just yesterday. In the background Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper played. It was one of my mom’s favorite songs. It was just a random chance that it was playing and I found the photos. I had just gone in the room to grab a pillow. A pillow. Instead laying there was a scrapbook my sister had made for her. My heart broke into a million pieces with each page turned. It is those moments that are the hardest…when all the pain and sorrow and grief sneak up on you and sideswipe you. You don’t see it coming. At least when you go to the cemetery or to her favorite places you are prepared for it to be tough. You are somewhat ready for the pain. It is the random moments when the loss is too real that are the most unbearable. I can’t believe she is gone. I truly can’t. I keep waiting for her to call. Every time the phone rings my heart skips a beat. I keep waiting to see her when I walk into a room. I cry when I realize I am alone. I keep waiting to hear her say that she loves me. I listen hard but hear nothing. I will be waiting forever.