See You Again

It’s been a long year without you, my friend….

And I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again. We’ve come a long way from where we began. Oh, I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again……When I see you again.

As I have walked through the motions of the past couple of weeks, I have found myself at several times pinching myself to see if I was going to wake up from this endless nightmare of grief that I’ve been attempting to trudge through for the past 363 days. Will I wake up? Will Angela be healthy? Will I receive my daily text or call from her? Unfortunately I snap out of it. This is my reality. My sister lost her battle to addiction and our family has been attempting to pick up the pieces. Each of us grieving in our own way. Some of us better than others.

UH
How can we not talk about family when family’s all that we got?
Everything you went through I was standing there by your side
And now you won’t be with me for the last ride

I know that I have several extended family members on Dad’s side; whom have beyond blessings, who love us very much and would do anything for us…..But the day dad left us Angela and I would always tell each other that “we are all that’s left of dad.” we had to stick together.” So naturally, when her disease began to take over, I fought so hard for her, I fought like hell…….I lost.

Last year at this time (April 30, 2016) I was headed home from Henry Ford Hospital with our mom. The first hour of the drive we were both silent, we sat stunned. Were we just told to schedule a time to remove my sisters ventilator? And it had to be Monday or Tuesday? Was the Hospice Nurse really such a heartless bitch when my mom asked  couple of questions? Did she have the nerve to tell us that she did it to herself?

The last half of the drive we listened to and picked out songs for her service. Thankfully my mom exudes strength and courage. I attempted to give ideas, silently sobbing. By the time we arrived home I was exhausted, I couldn’t believe that I just scheduled an appointment to allow my sister to die. All because addiction won. Anger. Sadness. Numbness.

I refer to April 30 the beginning of the end  for my sister and our lives. Although I know I truly lost the real Ang almost 7 years ago. I have relived this day more times than I’ve wanted. I replay it so vividly in my mind. I can see the nurse, the Hospice nurse, mom sitting to my right, I – at the end of Angela’s bed, gently holding her foot until I recoiled into a ball……

Let the light guide your way, yeah
Hold every memory as you go
And every road you take, will always lead you home, home

Now I see you in a better place (see you in a better place)