Dear Gigi: Part 1 ~~~ Wave on Wave

Dear Gigi,

I decided that instead of our weekly Skype dates I would just make a new section to my blog entitled, “Dear Gigi” and write you on Tuesdays.  That way you still can remain a part of my weekly routine and I can still feel like I’m catching you up on things. 
The first one might be kind of sad…

First off, you know how much I hate how many references to water there are in quotes about getting through things so the title of the post is to tie that in.  The quickest way to find out how many references there are to it is to have it take someone you love.  Rachel had taken her own life drowning in her bathtub.  The worst thing I heard afterwards was to ‘drown my sorrows’ and then people saying to just ‘stay above water’ and that’s not even including all of the suicide references.  I just adore when people say, “I’ve had the worst day, I should just kill myself” because they had a bad day at work or got stuck in traffic.  I get it.  I’m sure I did it at some point.  But those phrases all sound different now.  They all hurt. 
I could say I’m just ‘triggered’ or whatever, and I am, but I don’t flip out on people for saying it.  At least not most of the time.  I will get a little pissy if they know those things. 
Oh, you’ve had a bad day?  Take a nice long bath… it’ll relax you. 
It took me a year to get in the shower after I lost Rachel without having a panic attack.  I will never sit in a bathtub again as long as I live.  And now that image is in my head, the image of her bathtub filled with the water that killed her.  Or of her bathroom covered in blood.  I’d spent hours scrubbing the bathroom, the hallway, her bedroom, through the middle of the night because I was terrified that one of her kids would wake up and have to pee and see it. 
The bathtub is always either covered in her blood, or filled with the water that killed her. 
But I get it, it’s calming for you so you suggest it. 

But anyways, I digress.  So anyways, wave on wave.  Another wave crashed over me last night, hitting me full force.  It took my breath away.  I had had a few moments throughout the day of just suddenly tearing up and crying for a few minutes, but then I’d moved on with my day.  I haven’t been feeling very well.  The tiny human brought home the plague from school apparently. 
Kids, ugh.  Amirite?!
I made it through the whole day with just little bursts of sad.  I had been doing okay for nearly a week; not quite a week, but over half of it.  I started to feel more sick before bedtime and told the husband that I was done watching TV because I needed to go to bed and I needed a bowl next to it.  Fun. 

And I laid down. 
I was fine.  I was sick, but I wasn’t sad at that moment. 

And then I was walking into your hospital room.  I had known it was bad, I did, or I wouldn’t have just up and left for Detroit.  Dave was out of vacation time and he’d had to take off to be home with Arya.  I knew it was bad, but I didn’t know it was the end.  I’d been singing in the car. 
You think trying to find something on the radio is difficult… try doing it in a different state.  And I’d lost all hometown stations around the time I crossed the Ohio border.  But I’d been singing.  I’d been worried, very worried, but I’d been singing. 
I had taken a picture of Ohio for Dave as a joke.  Because it showed nothing but a straight highway with just land and random trees on the sides.  That really is what driving through most of Ohio looks like.  I’ve gone through Columbus through to Cincinatti before, I’ve driven up through Cleveland and Toledo, I’ve driven to near Akron, and it all looks like that. 
I took a picture of a sign after Toledo as you’re heading towards Michigan of exit 420 Stony Ridge and I’d laughed about it and sent it to Dave. 
I took a picture of this really cool bridge near Toledo.  I love that bridge.  We have tons here, but not like that one.  UK Rachel had sent me a picture of a bridge not far from them like that. 

But it was a road trip.  A worried one, but I really thought the entire way up there that you’d be okay.  Not today, but soon.  That you’d recover.  You’d already recovered from so much. 
I wanted to see your face when they took you off of life support and you saw me standing there.  You’d bitch at me for driving all the way up there over nothing and for seeing you without your eyebrows on. 

But there I was, walking into your hospital room in the ICU.
I had gone to the wrong hospital first. 
I was flustered. 
It was freezing. 
I was wearing pajamas.    

This wasn’t a planned trip, after all.
I saw your husband first, he was sitting down in the chair.  Your son was standing near your bed. 
Your daughter had just left so that I could come in since there was a 3 person in the room rule. 

And there you were with all those fucking tubes. 
I felt sick. 

I was smiling, sort of, I remember that.  Because that’s what you do when you see people you love that you haven’t seen in some time.  Even when it’s not a situation for smiling, you just sort of do it anyways. 

I see your husband get up and walk over to hug me. 
Then your son walks over to hug me. 
They thank me for coming or some shit.  I really don’t remember.  I ask how you are…
They’re saying these words to me, but I’m just not understanding yet. 

And then it hit me.

“Wait, what?”

Their words were coming through but I felt like I was just standing there with an awkward smile on my face trying to process what they were saying. 
I kept looking over at you, wanting to touch you, but the tubes… they were everywhere. 
I said hello, “Hi, Mom!  Look! I came all the way from Pittsburgh to see you!  Open your eyes and say hello!”

But you didn’t. 

“Wait, what?”

They were still talking…

“Wait, you mean… she’s not going to wake up?” 

Your husband tells me he had ulterior motives for asking me to drive on up to be there… for your last rites.  To give you your last rites.  What the fuck kind of shit is that. 
You are not supposed to be dying. 

You were NOT supposed to be dying. 

All those medical terms flying around, I understand them and it makes me hate them that much more.

My last message to Dave had been something like, “I better not be here to say goodbye,” because I briefly remember registering it as being sort of ironic or something because I sent him a message saying, “I’m here to say goodbye.”
Partially so that he knew I was there, but also so he knew I wouldn’t be okay when I got home.

Seriously, Gigi.  What the fuck kind of shit was that? 
You got admitted on the DAY that Rachel died?  I sat there holding your hand, talking to you, seeing that stupid bracelet on your arm with the day she died as the day you were admitted. 

I look at that stupid final text from you asking me to be your spiritual counsel if you ended up in a coma or something. 

I think, ‘she knew,” but it doesn’t matter. 
Because you’re gone. 

The doctors would come in or out.

We would go in or not.

They stopped enforcing that 3 person rule after that first visit.
They told the hospital I was your sister so that I could be in there.

Because I was. 

I was your sister, I was your daughter, I was your best friend.
You were my person. 

“The part that makes her… her… is gone”
“Her body cannot heal.”
“The EEG confirmed….”
“They tried again, but…”

“I came to say goodbye.”

I did not want to say goodbye.
I wasn’t ready. 

None of us were ready. 

I told you to go ahead.  I told you to go hug your mom.
Lo, there she sees her mother…

Then, later, when I felt you leaving I panicked.
“I LIED!”
I didn’t, really, but it sort of feels that way.
I was telling you it was okay, but it felt anything but.
I just knew that was what you needed to hear, to help you go. 

But it’s not okay. 
I’m not okay.
We’re not okay.
You’re okay now, but we’re not. 

I kept asking you to please open your eyes, but I knew you couldn’t. 

I could see you had one foot in each world.

The body does horribly weird things on life support….

Things that made us want to hope, but they were just reflexes and on some level we knew that but didn’t care. 

I tried to help. 

I took them out to dinner that night when we got kicked out of the room.  I knew you’d want them to eat, so I made sure they ate. 

We went to Steak ‘N Shake or something.

I had never been before, it was pretty decent even if we weren’t very hungry.
We were all probably hungrier than we realized though because we mostly finished our plates.

I got to drive on 8 mile again.  I rapped another Eminem song for you, of course. 

We all stayed up on Samhain Eve to wish you a Happy Halloween as it turned midnight.

I didn’t realize until much later that I gave you your last rites shortly after midnight on Halloween. 
How fitting. 
Did you like that?  Because I think you would have loved that. 

I gave you those last rites while your husband had gone to grab me a pop from the store.  We were all dehydrating ourselves crying. 

Then we sat there by your bed, holding your hand, one of us on each side, through the night. 
We went and tried to sleep in the waiting room at different points, but neither of us slept more than an hour or two. 

Everyone kept checking in on you, privately messaging me.  Numerous group chats were going on.  You’d have loved knowing how much everyone cared.  I read you every message. 

I sat there and read you every single message that I could.  I hope I didn’t miss any. 

I said everything I could possibly think of to say. 
But it’ll never be enough.  Sort of the reason for this blog, after all.

I hope it was good enough.
I hope I did okay.
I am your rockstar, after all. 

My hips had been out.  I had stopped registering it.  My body was letting me get through this.  The 6 hour car ride was sort of torture on them, but they waited til I got home to really give me shit.
The 24 hours in a hospital chair in between the car rides didn’t help, I’m sure.  But oh well. 

Some nurse gave me some props as I was saying my goodbye to you.  Did you hear her?  That was pretty cool. 

But you in that bed with all those tubes, that was not cool at all. 
That is something I will see for the rest of my life. 

I will see the faces of your family, so heartbroken, forever.
I will hear the sounds those machines made, forever.

But I wasn’t there anymore.  That was over a month ago now. 

I thought I had been handling things sort of okay.  I’ve been staying busy.  Lots of projects. 

I was in my bed, in Pittsburgh.  Not a hospital room in Detroit. 

You were already gone.  And it crashed into me.  WHAM!

And the tears poured out. 

I had been fine. 
I hadn’t been feeling well from this plague, but I had been fine. 
And then I wasn’t. 

Because you’re not here. 

I know it takes the brain time to process things and I’ve tried more than once to just relax for a bit to let things hit me.  I should have known better than to try to force that though.  It was gonna hit when it hit.  And it hit this week. 

It really hit.  It hit like that first week all over again. 
I pictured your husband opening up ornaments to put on the tree and seeing the one I made for the two of you and it made me cry harder.  You never got to put it back up on your tree to see it again. 
It was just last year on Christmas Eve that I was marrying you. 

And then I was in the car on the drive home, screaming at the top of my lungs. 
Destroyed. 
Please, please don’t leave me. 
Please don’t leave me. 
I can’t do this without you.
I can’t do this again.
I need you. 
Please, don’t leave me.

Please. 

I hear Daylight on the radio on the way home.  Maroon 5.
The words sound completely different now.
Listen to it and you’ll see…
Another wave of sobbing and screaming.

The pain hits my chest all over again. 
It really physically hurts.  It’s amazing that you can live through pain that big.  Let alone this many times. 
I don’t get it. 
I don’t get how I’m still standing here. 

I really don’t.

I’m missing you so much.  And it’s the fucking holidays. 
I had a breakdown halfway through putting up the tree.  It was something me and Rachel always did together.  We loved it. 
LOVED it. 

And every year I cry.  Every year it hurts all over again. 
I still put on the same carols, but she isn’t there to belt out her parts. 
And as soon as one of those parts hits, I’m reminded.  I miss her voice. 
I kept on singing this year because 2.0 was enjoying it, but the breakdown still happened. 
We don’t get invited anywhere for holidays anymore.  It’s just us here, alone. 
We stopped getting invited to family functions after my Pap died.  But really it had all fallen apart before that with Rachel dying and then all that bullshit with my mom.  You know all about that though so I don’t need to go into detail. 
But like, really, did you have to pick such a shitty yet poetically perfect time of year to die? 

Remember how much fun that was last year? 
You crying to me on Skype about how upset you were that nothing felt like it was coming together right for the wedding…. That the only guy you found willing to marry you guys on Christmas Eve was some dude who kept saying GOD in all caps and you just didn’t like that at all. 
Your face when I had said, “That’s such a shame… Such a shame you don’t know someone who is ordained… especially not someone that has a really hard time on Christmas Eve and would LOVE to have a reason to look forward to it, or someone who enjoyed road trips and would love nothing more than to drive to Detroit and back on Christmas Eve to marry you.  Or someone who has a musician husband and daughters that can be a flower girl and the other to take some pictures… what a fucking shame! 
And your face, man. 
It lit up.  And then teared up. 
“You would do that for me?!  Why would you do that for me!!! Oh my gods, are you SERIOUS?!”
And I just nodded, smiling.  “Of course I would.  What are friends for?”
And you threw your arms up in the air and shouted, “I have to go! You just single handedly made everything else fall into place!!!!  I have to call my husband RIGHT NOW! I’ll call you back!” and you ended the skype call. 
I’ll remember it forever.  That was the best Christmas Eve since Rachel died. 
I’m so so so so so glad we had that day. 

But, damn. 

This week I just keep getting thrown back into your hospital room. 
I keep seeing them telling me what was going on, how bad it really was, in this fog. 
Over, and over, and over. 

Losing you over, and over, and over. 

“Lady Dragonfli’s spirit has flown.”

Over, and over, and over. 

I miss you so much. 

I really just miss you so much. 

I’ll talk to you next Tuesday. 
I just realized this a few weeks ago and I really wanted to tell you.
I can’t believe that we had our regular Skype dates on Tuesdays at 1pm and never ever said, “See you next Tuesday” laughing about C U Next Tuesday. 
What a missed opportunity that was!  FOR YEARS!!!

I love you, AM

AD