So, I have been exploring my writing more and more every day. It soothes me. Verbal vomit can be your best friend at times, or it can be your worst enemy. Either way, it's good to get it all out. I remembered a blog that I had started back in late 2010, surprising as it has been long forgotten. With this writing binge I've been on, I went back to that long forgotten blog. It wasn't very impressive, maybe 5 posts at best, looking back at it though, I had written it at one of my darkest times. At that point I had not been diagnosed with anything, so I didn't really know how dark I was. I want to give you an excerpt of something that was so profound to me that even to this very day, I can not read it without tears flowing.
" My other aunt was taking care of her, back and forth to doctors and what not. This killed me, I wanted to be there so badly, but due to finances, kids, and work I was unable to do anything but talk to her on the phone. She fought so hard with the treatments and she always had a smile on her face regardless of how much pain she was in. The treatments worked to a point. The mass in her lungs went away, but not before it spread into her brain, bones, and adrenal glands. There was nothing anyone could do for her but to make sure that she was comfortable and happy. In the beginning of October I had finally gotten the money up to go see her. I called her and told her to hang on a couple more weeks and I would be down there to see her (for what I knew would be the last time). That was on a Friday. Saturday, I talked to her again on the phone and I could barely understand what she was saying, the only thing I could make out was "I love you". My other aunt then got on the phone and said that she had taken a turn for the worse and I should get down there sooner than I had made plans for. That following Monday, she was taken to the hospital because she was swelling in her arms and feet, aspirating, and hardly responsive. By late Monday night, she was in hospice, resting with a morphine drip and no pain. My other aunt called me at midnight and told me to come now, it was time. Tuesday morning, I sent my kids off to school like it was a normal day and started making preparations for an emergency road trip. By about six o'clock that evening we were on the road headed to Arkansas. We got there at about ten the next morning. I met my aunt at her house and had a cup of coffee, after that we went to the hospital. When I walked into the room, I broke down. The woman that I had loved my whole life, the one who hung the moon in my eyes, had wasted away. The treatments had taken all of her hair, and reduced her to skin and bones. Being as she was in hospice, there were no monitors beeping, or ventilators swooshing. Just an oxygen tube by her nose and an IV for her morphine. I stayed with her all day and most of the night until my husband talked me into going back to the house to take a shower and get some rest. Not an hour after we got to the house, hospice called. "Shes marbling" they said, "Shes starting to die" they said. We rushed back to the hospital. When we got there she was stable again and she was not about to die, yet. After that scare, I refused to leave her side, I took it as a sign saying that she needed me there with her, we were the most important thing in each others lives. Everyone else went home to get some much needed sleep. I talked to her through the night, she seemed to hear me because when I spoke to her, she would move, but that was it. She had a guest book in her room that people signed and said some beautiful things to her and about her, I figured it was my turn. I wrote how sorry I was for not being there for her sooner, and how much I would regret that for the rest of my life, and how even though my mother (her sister) is still alive and well, she was my mom, she was my everything and I didn't know how I was going to live without her but me and the kids would be OK and I would make her proud. When I was done writing it I read it to her while I held her hand and wiped away my own tears. I wished so badly that she would just open her eyes and wrap her arms around me, all she did was take a deep breath and squeeze my hand. Then I knew that she heard me. After that I held her hand, not letting go, I wanted her to feel that I was there, and I dozed off. I have no clue how long I was asleep for, all I know is that I woke up with this incredibly strong, indescribable fear that engulfed me like I was being sucked into a black hole. I had to take a break. I went out into the hall, went outside to smoke (stupid under the circumstance, I know). After I had regained my composure, I went back to her bedside to hold her hand for however long she needed me. The morning came and people started coming in again, saying their I'm sorrys, and saying how good of a person she was, and how they loved her, and telling stories about her. I wanted to scream at them and tell them to get out, to stop touching her, to leave us alone. I knew though that she would not have wanted me to act like that, she had taught me better than that. They were just there being nice, but all I could do is cry, and berate them silently for having seen her when I couldn't. She took her last breath October 28, 2010 at 4:40pm. I was still holding her hand. "
This was the most terrifying and debilitating thing that had ever happened to me. I promised that I would make her proud, and since her death I have rotted away myself. Wishing every day to be with her. I have done nothing. This is why I have decided to write. Maybe if I can write and help even just one person, I can make her proud. When I get depressed, my thoughts always turn to her. Today is one of those days.