Warning. This took me a long time to write, because I could only do it a little at a time. It's my experience of February. I tried to be brutally honest, so it may be hard to read.
I don't know how I'll possibly be able to do this, but I can't just skip over this major event of my life. So, I'm going to
try.
My sister was born when I was a month away from turning seven. Up until that point, I had been the baby, which I had enjoyed. I wasn't entirely sure I approved of this new baby. She got a lot of attention, and when I tried to play fun games like 'jump over the baby', I got in
trouble! Growing up with her wasn't any easier, because she was always so perfect. She was a beautiful kid, blonde with piercing blue eyes, and freckles. And she had this great attitude on top of it. When you're a teenager, and one with a perpetual bad attitude like me, it seems so fake to see someone being that good all the time. But she was. She and Rachel were best friends from the time they could talk to one another. I'm sure they fought at times, but sitting here racking my brain, I honestly can't remember any. She was the best aunt in the world to my and my sister's kids. I can remember her just walking the boys around the house when they were babies and singing church songs softly to them. She left for college and only came home every few weekends and I missed her. When she came home to work to save for her mission, she came over at least a few nights a week and we'd watch tv or movies, and talk until late. We knew each other well enough to know what the other was thinking a lot of the time.
When she left for her mission, it was hard. I had secretly and selfishly hoped she'd meet a boy and stay home and get married. She emailed us every week, and told us how happy she was serving her mission. We were all thrilled that she loved it, but every one of us were counting down until she came home. Misty and I made plans for the month she came home, and the family vacations that needed to wait until she was here. Rachel and I planned who she would marry and where she would live (that drove her crazy).
The night she passed away, Rachel and I had gone out. We were wandering around stores like hobby lobby and Garden Ridge, looking for house stuff but mostly talking. We had gotten to Walmart to grab some craft supplies (since I couldn't find a lampshade, I'd make one instead....) when my mom called. A trooper had come to their door and left a card with a number to call in Oklahoma. They had called and the number had been disconnected. After looking up the correct number, they called and whoever answered refused to tell them anything, saying a trooper would be back to talk to them. She wanted Clayton to call around and see what happened. Rach and I abandoned our stuff and walmart and rushed home. She was crying in the car, and I kept saying "you don't know, stop it. She's probably fine, just an accident. Maybe she'll come home early" We got home right when Clayton got a phone call back, to tell him what had happened. I can remember thinking that if he hung up and immediately started talking, then she was fine. But if he came over to hug me, it was not. He hung up, and started over with his arms out. I don't remember very clearly, but they told me later I yelled 'no' and pushed him away. That thought of 'if you hug me, it's bad. so don't hug me' was all I could focus on for a little while. Then mom called him back, and Clayton had to break the news to my parents over the phone, which is probably the worst thing he's ever had to do. He left to meet the trooper at my parents house, and I had him drive Rachel home, so she wouldn't have to. I stayed home, because I didn't want to wake the kids up and have them see the sobbing I knew would be happening. It was a rough night, both while I was home and when Clayton came back and I went to my parents. It's weird the things that occur to you. I can remember clicking on facebook while Clayton was gone, and thinking that it was the last time I could do it for awhile, because as soon as everyone knew they'd be writing on my wall and sending me messages, which would annoy the heck out of me. Being at my parents was better and worse. I know how much my parents love her, and to look at my heartbroken dad was more than I could handle at times. I ended up hiding with my brother in his room, where Rachel joined us before long. My mom found us their, and talked to us for awhile. I went home to try to sleep around 2 or 3.
When I woke up at 6:00, I started screaming all over again. Sure enough, I already had texts and facebook messages. It had blown facebook up overnight, with people tagging my family in their statuses. That began the chant of "they mean well" that I had to perform over the next week. It was a long Saturday. I had people calling and texting and messaging me. At my mom's house, people came up to hug me a million times. On Sunday morning, Mom called to say that they were going to church. My Dad wanted to, and so they were. I didn't particularly want to, because I felt like I would just be looked at too much. I didn't want anyone to hug me or look at me. But I had a very strong feeling that we had to do this together. No one was going to deal with anything alone. We are a united front, one family. She is
ours. I went, and it was hard. My Dad bore his testimony, and while I can't remember the things he said, because I was struggling just to hold on at the time, I can remember the feeling I had.
The waiting game began then, because certain paper work had to be done to bring her home. We waited for my older sister and her family to get home, and didn't plan anything until they did. Nothing felt right without them here. I was relieved the moment they walked in, because Misty is exactly like my mom in a lot of ways. She can handle the projects and planning and decision making. I was impressed that week by the thought that my family has some seriously strong women. I definitely looked around at my mother and sisters and thought "I am nowhere near their level of strength. I'm totally the weak link here". Luckily, our Father in Heaven answers prayers. Because I prayed and I prayed and I prayed. The night before one of the most difficult days of my life, Alesa's mission president's wife e-mailed us some songs that Alesa had recorded herself singing and playing her ukulele. At first it made it worse. It had been suggested to Clayton that I be medicated, which had offended me. But I have never needed medication more than I did when I first opened that e-mail and listened to the first song she sang. But as I listened to them all play, a quiet peace came over me. I had a feeling that these songs were for us. This was a blessing. I made it through that day, somehow. Her body was back to her earthly home, and her spirit is in her heavenly home. I don't have to like it, but I have to accept it.
It was a long week. Mostly I just wanted to be left alone with my family. I didn't want to have to listen to other people cry. I had no room in my body for anyone else's grief. My little sister and I spoke at the funeral, with our older sister and baby brother by our sides. It was difficult, but I knew Alesa wanted us to. I don't know how it sounded, but I desperately wanted to convey who she was. I felt like everyone was focusing on one part of her life, an important part, but not the only part. I needed them to see how much we'd always miss her here. I needed them to see how funny she was, and smart she was and how nothing will ever,
ever be the same without her here.
It took awhile for me to stop my screaming/crying before bed. And when I did, I felt guilty. There is a part of me that still doesn't want to laugh, even though I need to. I had a hard time just making it through the day for awhile. I have a great friend that I work with that let me talk about whatever I wanted, be that my sister or any dumb thing to distract myself. I was angry for a long time. Not with my sister, not even with the kid who killed her. But everyone else was fair game. I felt like some people were using her death for attention, and some people acted like they were closer to her than they were. Those are the worst in my mind. Maybe someday I'll be able to let that go, but I'm not at that point yet. My nerves are still kind of raw. Any fight or disagreement with anyone, be it my sweet husband or an acquaintance I don't know that well reduces me to tears pretty quickly. Almost every time you see me, I'm trying really, really hard.
Right now, my mind still can't wrap around her being gone. I'm not sure whether it's a blessing or a curse, really. In my head, she's still on her mission in Oklahoma. I know she's passed away, but I don't believe it somehow. When I try to convince myself, I keep thinking things like "yeah, that would be the WORST. If this was all real, you would NOT be able to handle it!" The whole experience is surreal. I haven't been back to the cemetery because when I'm there, my mind rejects the whole thing. It seems ridiculous to think that my sister, my baby sister that I watched grow up, and made fun of for being perfect, is buried there. How could that even be possible? And if it is, then why mine? Why not literally anyone else's?
I miss her, I will always miss her. I think of her everyday. I wonder how busy she is, and if she has time to look down and laugh at the things Ben says or cheer when Ethan hits a homerun or smile while Jordyn bosses them both around. I wonder if she knows, if I told her enough, how much I love her. How sorry I am for ever being short with her when she was little, how one of my favorite memories is of her catching me trying to lick my lips alluringly in the mirror as a teenager and her calling me a lizard for the next year. How in my mind at every family function, I'm wondering what she'd say about this or that, or how hard she'd laugh when I make a Harry Potter reference, because it's her fault I can make them at all. I wonder if she still thinks it's funny when I make fun of relatives that annoyed us both. I wonder how I can possibly live the rest of my life without her. I never considered any alternative. Of course the five of us would grow old together. I had plans for the rest of her life. A husband, kids I could buy laser guns and drum sets for. She'd need to live nearby, so we could still have movie nights fairly often. I'm older, of course I'd die first. She should have to help do all this funeral stuff for me.
We are all doing our best, but we are all struggling. I heard our family complimented on the quiet dignity we had, and all I could think of is how I was literally screaming into my pillow the night before, which seems pretty undignified. My parents are awesome, my Mom is a pillar of strength to the entire family. It's nice to have people that I know love her as much as I do, that I know
get it. I love my parents, my brother and my sisters more than I know how to express. If I didn't understand that families are eternal, and Alesa will always be a part of mine, not just in my heart but someday again physically, then I don't know how I could make it. I know without a doubt that she still exists, and is the same funny, sarcastic, anime-doodling, ugly converse sneaker lovin' sister I've always known and loved. And I will do everything I can to get back to her. I know I'm the weak link here, so I'll have to work that much harder. But I won't be the reason our whole family isn't united as one forever. Because we are a united front, one family. Forever. She's
ours.
-Dana
