I guess it was a good thing that I was away from the computer for as long as I was. Hearing the news about your death left me extremely angry and I would’ve most likely have said a lot of stuff that I might not have meant.
I say “might” because in reality, I’m still rather embittered by you leaving us the way you did. No real warning, no time for anyone to brace themselves for impact; you were here one moment, then gone the next. No one ever say it coming. At least, I didn’t. And you know, I could accept it if it was something like a car crash or something terminal; something that we could’ve been like, “you know this sucks, but what can you do?” (forgive the bluntness of that last line but…you know what I mean.) This just feels like it’s not…that. This felt completely avoidable. I question why God would choose to take you the way he did.
Oh god, the questions. We’ve all been asking and throwing hypotheticals all week, but in the end, the only one that knows for sure isn’t around. So we humor ourselves, drawing conclusions out of the air so we can sleep at night…or keep ourselves up past dawn. Either way, we’re all lost in thoughts of you. And I don’t want to be. Because when I’m alone with my thoughts I think of you and I go crazy because I don’t know to say goodbye to someone I thought I was getting real close to.
I’ll be honest in that I don’t recall too much of you or Rosie when I was younger. I know you lived with us up until we moved to Puerto Rico, I know that you both used both TV’s in the house to watch your soap operas (which annoyed the hell outta me when I wanted to watch cartoons) and I sued to love when the phone rang because you guys would run down the stairs and sounded like a herd of elephants to wee who could get to the phone first. I half looked forward to, and yet hated when you had gum because while I always knew I’d get a piece, I knew it would always be a half of the piece you were currently chewing…which would explain why I can’t stand gum the moment it starts to lose its flavor. Wow. I learn something new every day, LOL.
Other than that though, I don’t recall too much. I think it was because I thought you were closer to Rico because he was older and did more with everyone, I think I just assumed he was more important. You know, sibling rivalry stuff.
Not until my scoliosis surgery did stuff start sticking with me. I can’t remember how it got there, but you got me a 17 magazine while I was in the hospital. I read that thing cover to cover. I guess mom told you I liked it, because you got me 2 more subscriptions after that. I also remember a time where mom came back from NY with this GINORMOUS sketchbook (the 11x17” comic sized sketchbook to be exact!) and a butt load of markers that she said you got me from the Aqueduct flea market. It took me a bit to even draw on that because I thought it was too awesome to touch. Whenever we talked it was stuff like what music do you listen to and do you have a boyfriend and stuff like that. It threw me off initially because I never thought I was worth talking to, but I loved it because it was like “wow, this isn’t a segway into me giving the phone to mom or dad or Rico, she’s actually asking about me!
Then recently I felt like I kinda bonded with you with my artwork. I hate how my stuff comes out half the time, and I know my parents will always like my stuff but, you kinda saw it on a different level. You enjoyed the process of me trying to identify myself artistically. I’m still shocked that you kept one of my digital pieces. And I laughed SO hard when my friend Stephanie called me about you, saying how you were sending her mean messages and stuff about a watercolor I posted. You had no idea she was just fooling around and while I found it extremely hilarious, I was amazed that you’d go into a flame war on my behalf (I could’ve really have used your help in November, LOL) I couldn’t wait to show you my Senior Project and when you came down to visit FL, I regretted leaving my stuff in MN and really felt bad that I had nothing new to show you.
But god, that visit was amazingly awesome. I was so mad to be at work because I wanted to stay home and hang out with you all. I could’ve flown home I was driving so fast! But it was great hearing the house so noisy and loud and we talked about everything and nothing all at once. I hated the day you left because I knew the house was going to be dead quiet. But it was bearable; that visit reminded me why I miss my family so much and drove me to make more effort to keep in contact. I didn’t want to lose that connection again. So I messaged you and texted you throughout the months and we’d be counting down the months ‘till you came back to visit.
Now…now I just don’t know what to do.
I don’t know how to deal with the fact that you’re not here. And it’s tearing me up. I find myself trying to fill my head with anything to keep you out of it. It works for a little while, then it’s right back to you. Even at your funeral I kept saying I love you and I miss you but I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye. I keep thinking I’m going to hear from you at some point, or like, when I was in NY, like I just missed you by just a few minutes. Even now, I’m working, and I’ll be like, ‘oh, maybe she’s busy, maybe she’s tired. I wonder what she thought of the like I sent her?’I haven’t faced up to the reality that, they’re not near misses. You’re not busy or tired. You’ll never see that link. You’re dead. And no amount of masking or denying or busy work I do is going to change that. And yet, I fear moving forward because I don’t want to lose you. I fear I might forget your face, who you are. I don’t think I can live with the thought of going “oh yeah, her.” But then, what do I do?
Josie, what do I do? How do I accept this? How do I mourn? How do I remember you? How do I move on? Give me something…anything! Anything that I can use to face this reality. To let go, to release this pain, this immense hurting, that keeps me up at night, that makes me ache for you. I don’t want time to heal my wounds, I want you to heal me. I want to say goodbye so, as a friend of mine put it, you’re not completely a dark memory. I want to say goodbye so that when I think of you, it’s of your time here, not when you left. I want to say goodbye so that I can be at peace.
I want to say goodbye so that you can be at peace.