I last wrote a blog post a while ago. It's not that I didn't want to write one; I've been so busy…
Right after my last blog post, my sister passed away on July 22nd, 2022. I remember getting a few fillings at the dentist - which required 9 needle injections because I was cycling through the medication. Afterward, I made my way to the hospital, only 5 minutes away. I walked into ICU Room 9, my mom already there, and my sister's significant across from here. I remember all the monitors and the tubes, just how swollen she was. My boyfriend and I were both in shock at her condition. He had a dentist appointment to go to - but wanted to cancel. I refused and told him to go. He left visibly shaken up by the entire thing. I stuffed down whatever feelings I had and took charge. My little sister was on her way, and when she arrived, the doctor called us into the ICU because it was time. My mom and sister left, and I stayed with her body for about 15 minutes and just sang and talked. Her significant other was the last to leave. That was the last time I saw her "alive."
Truth be told, the last time I saw her was a few days after July 4th - I ran into her at the Costco we both go to. I gave her a hug, and my boyfriend and I left. I remember telling my boyfriend she is very, very, very thin. That's what alcohol does. It kills you slowly. I can promise you my sister did not die gently. As listed on her death certificate:
- severe alcoholic cirrhosis
- hypovolemic shock
- ongoing and chronic alcohol abuse
- bilateral hemothorax due to coagulopathy
Just one of those things alone will cause you great pain. But all of them will eventually kill you.
Avoidance.
So, I found myself doing what I do best in times of stress. I threw myself into my work. My sister's death did not come as a shock or surprise to me. She had been drinking herself into yearly medically induced comas over the last 10 years. I was mostly disappointed. Disappointed that my niece and nephew now have no mother. My niece – had already lost her father before she was born. He passed away when my sister was 6 months pregnant. My nephew, on the other hand – well, his father was alive and well until about 5 days after my sister passed away. He was killed during an altercation with his then girlfriends, the father of her child.
It was a fucking shit show; there's no other way for me to say it. It has been a dumpster fire of a year. But not for me. Because truth be told – yes, I lost my sister, but I did not lose my mother or father; Everything has happened to those around me- my loved ones. I am just a bystander in all of this. Nothing happens to me per se – just around me.
Proximity.
In such a pitiful tone, people would say, " I'm so sorry for your loss; that must be awful." While they think they're being helpful - they're really just annoying the fuck out of me. Understand that my sister and I had very similar traits. We both HATED pity. We could not stand it. It's not that we showed apathy for the people showing empathy - we just hated the tone in their voices and the feeling that some people are like grief vampires. They love to hear about the sadness, the pain, and the suffering so that they can go home and sleep in their beds like nothing has happened - enjoying the comforts of knowing that they showed they cared without actually showing they cared.
Melancholy.
In many ways, I am. I am exhausted from stuffing everything down. I am tired of throwing myself into my work. But If I don't work, I won't eat. For that, I disdain this place I have come to call home. This place where my melancholy has come out in work, alcoholic and trying to get through each day like everything is okay.
Truth.
Be told, I am terrified. Terrified of what the future holds. Even at 30, I feel the same as I did when I was 15 and unsure about the world. No one tells you that growing up means pretending to know how life works. As I said, I was fully expecting my sister to die soon. Anyone who acts like she was going to get better is doing a disservice to her memory. I had been planning for her death mentally for roughly 2 years. I wanted to save enough money to buy my studio so that I could bring the kids (her kids) to my house. The kids are with my little sister. I know you must be thinking, WTF, Chelsea! Why your kid's sister?? Well, she stepped up when our parental unit decided to break down. I don't fault my mom for being incapable. It's just in her nature. While she was incapable, I started to take over the funeral plans. Initially, my mom and sister were starting the arrangements- but they get overwhelmed easily, whereas I work great under pressure.
Feeling.
After my sister's funeral - with her all-white casket, picking the plot closest to her daughter's grave, and dealing with my family - I was left feeling light. Not heavy and weighed down like most people feel after such a taxing event. As if I had nothing less to As if my sister told me to thank you.
I'm not the religious type - not in the same sense of Christianity, no. But I am a person who believes in many things. Maybe Earth is just the starting point, and we go off to another galaxy when we die. Maybe our souls create planets. Maybe whatever you believe happens, happens. Maybe nothing. Regardless, I felt a profound peace. My sister and I talked about death and what she wanted if she died. I often joked that she was lucky if she even got a box. But when the time came - I did what I needed to. I kept my unspoken word. The peace I felt came from her. As if my sister was telling me, "Thank you...for doing everything you promised you would do."
Now.
Now it's two days from what would be her 33rd birthday. Two days from now, there will be no harassing calls saying, " a punk where my gift." There will be no jokes or laughs in a restaurant coming from this small human being. All that remains of her life is a memory. All that remains are the stories she left behind, her living children. All that remains - is the remains of her. As I said, nothing happens to me; it's all proximity. I did not die; she died. Proximity.
