It's been awhile since I've had time for my "therapy" also known as my blog. Today, though, I need it. Desperately.
For on this day, November 19th, in 1993, my life was changed forever. Eighteen years ago I lost a piece of me. The piece of me that always served as a reminder for me not to take myself or life so seriously. My sister. My wild and adventurous little sister.
I remember it just like it was yesterday down to what I was wearing at the time. A black suit. I'd gone for drinks and a quasi date after work. We were partying when I got the call. Well, this was before I actually had a cell phone. My date, however, did have one, and my friend called him. Funny, though...I cannot remember his name to save my life.
Any way, he was very sweet and handled the situation well. He told me that we had to leave the club because his brother needed him. Of course being the consummate party girl, I told him to just leave me there.
It is too early! I can just find a ride home with someone else! Yes, I was a jerk, but that's not even the worst of it.
He was persistent, though, and practically dragged me out of the bar. Once in the car, he told me that his brother had gotten into some trouble and he needed to go take care of things. That's when I started blabbing on and on about how my sister was always in trouble and how my parents and I were always bailing her out of some situation. I told him about the time I drove three hours to Lafayette, Louisiana, to rescue her from a supposedly abusive boyfriend only to have her turn around three hours later and go back to him. This is reason #47 why Karma continues to bite me in the behind.
As he walked me into my apartment, we could hear the telephone ringing. I rushed to get it before the person on the other end could hang up. She didn't. It was my friend, Amye.
Millie was in a bad car wreck.
What?!?! Is she okay??!!??
No, she's dead.
Amye, tell me you're kidding. Tell me this is a very unfunny joke.
No, LB. She's gone. She didn't make it.
I don't even remember my date leaving the apartment. All I remember is wanting to get home to my parents as soon as possible. But I was drunk, and the drive was six hours. My mom would not allow me to take a chance and end up in the same place as my sister.
I cried myself to sleep that night. I got up at the crack of dawn, eyes nearly swollen shut, and a severe headache to remind me of all the beers I drank the night before. My mind was clear, though. My sister was gone. I had to get home to take of her like I always did.
I'd never seen so many people at a funeral in my entire life. Still, to this day, I don't remember seeing more people at a visitation. She had so many friends. My family had so many people who cared about her and about us. Her poor babies. They were too young to lose their mom! Justyn was around nine or ten. Jade was only five. And Jerry Michael...her sweet little boy. He loved his mom, my sister, more than any other person in the world. The middle child just like her, and they were thick as thieves. It broke me to see them hurt.
It still hurts me to see how that loss has affected them over the years. Her kids were my first loves. I never knew what it felt like to love so much that your heart aches into she brought those three little angels into the world. I only wish she were hear to feel that same feeling for my kids. G looks a bit like her. E has a bubbly personality like her.
Funny how that happens, huh?
When we lost her, our family changed. Some things for the better. My dad, who never spoke more than three words per day to me, will now talk to me for hours if I let him. And we like each other! Believe it or not, we are so much more like one another than I could ever have imagined. He's one of the best storytellers you will ever meet.
Some things changed for the worse, though. My mom was very close to my sister in a completely different way than with me. Unlike me, my sister had no walls. My mom could be who she wanted to be around Mimi and vice versa. I was always the uptight, hard-to-get-along-with daughter seeking perfection. While my mother and I were close, our closeness was much different. I think my mom missed that closeness with Mimi until the day she died. I can just imagine them in heaven together, smiling and laughing.
And for me, the good news is that I don't take myself and life too seriously anymore. It's just too damn stressful. My sister taught me that.
Thanks, Mimi! The bad news is that I feel completely alone sometimes. Don't get me wrong; I love my brother, and I love my dad. They mean the world to me, and I'm glad we have each other. But there is NOTHING like that bond of sisters. Before she died, she and I had really grown to love each other. We'd become very good friends. I remember a cross-stitched picture I made for Mimi. I gave it to her for Christmas, and made sure they put it in her casket before they buried her.
Our roots say we're sisters,
Our hearts say we're friends.
 |
| Mardi Gras, 1993. Me (left), Beeg (center), and Millie (right) in probably the last photo taken together. |
