The clock seems to be speeding towards March 16th, the one year anniversary of you gaining your wings. I feel as if an elephant is sitting upon my chest, only allowing small breaths to escape my lungs. I find peace in Doc’s arms. I find peace when my mind allows me to sleep. The rest of the time, I feel hollow. As the days get closer to that one year mark, it seems I’m losing pieces of myself. Smiles are forced. Laughter doesn’t happen. I’m just here, no emotion. I could sleep for days. Grief is exhausting. I’m climbing and climbing up the mountain of grief with no end in sight. It’s almost as if I’ve been stuck in the eye of storm, waiting for the wind to begin to pick up, waiting for rain to start pouring down. I’m not sure what to expect next Thursday. I’m thinking about taking off work. Does that make me weak? I fight that thought a lot. Does me crying over nothing make me weak? Does having zero will to do anything make me weak? That’s how I feel…weak.
I’m not blaming you for my pain. I’m not. I blame heroin. I blame addiction. Heroin stole you from me. Heroin robbed me of my brother. Heroin robbed me of possible nieces and/or nephews. Heroin robbed me of a relationship that was supposed to last a lifetime. You’re in peace. I know that. You’re no longer struggling. I know that too. That does not make my heart better. You’re not hear to talk to, to laugh with, to reminisce with.
I struggle daily and at the end of the day, when I’ve made it through, I look back and smile at the strength I have. Because no matter what, the clock keeps ticking. I struggle to figure out who I am without you here. I’ve been your sister for 22 years and now, suddenly, I’m expected to learn how to be me without you. What does that person look like? I just don’t know.
You’re always with me, I know that. You’re in every decision I make, every thought I have. I truly live for you. & I will continue living for you. I wish I could make the words I write have as much meaning as they are designed to have. I miss you with every part of me. But those words don’t seem to convey the true emotion behind them. Truth is, there is no words to truly describe the pain and emptiness I am left with. So, one foot at a time, one breath at a time. “Left foot, right foot, breathe.”
With all my heart,