One Phone Call From Our Knees

Something that I guess I never expected with the trauma of what happened with Robin is the after effects of it all. I feel as though I’ve handled my grief well and I feel good about where she is and what I believe. I don’t feel sad often anymore and when I do, I know that it’s ok to feel that way. I know that she’s with us all the time. All of that I feel confident about. 

What stayed with me is the anxiety and the fear that something like this could happen all over again. It’s 1:28 AM and I was about to fall asleep without my phone on silent. I do this because I’m afraid something bad will happen in the middle of the night and my family will be trying to get ahold of me and they won’t be able to reach me. I’m afraid to wake up to 20 missed calls from them because something bad happened and they needed to reach me. It may be devastating waking up to a phone call that changes your life but it would be even worse to miss those calls. 

I don’t think this is a rational way of thinking. Most people don’t go to bed every night in fear that they might wake up to find out that someone they love is sick or gone.

If I get an unexpected call from my mom or anyone in my family, or even just a text that says “call me”, I immediately jump to worst case scenario. I brace myself for the worst. I answer the phone in fear every single time.

These are strange things for me to admit because in my day to day life, I don’t recognize that these reactions are not “normal”. These anxieties are not something that everyone faces but when they’ve been your normal for so many years, you genuinely forget that this is not the case for everyone.

These anxieties manifest in many different ways for me. Tonight, I had go online to figure out how to keep my phone on silent with the exception of phone calls from my family so that I could actually fall asleep without hearing every notification sound on my phone. Luckily, there is a way. There’s a small sense of relief in that. But then also, not at all when you think about why I need it to be that way. 

I’m always working toward positive thinking and seeing the good in everything, however, it does feel like I’m always waiting for the next tragedy to hit my family. I was so fully and completely unprepared to go through what we went though with Robin and I just cannot let myself be blindsided like that again. Even though every night I lose sleep thinking about the phone call that changed everything, there is a small part of me that thinks maybe we have been through enough. Maybe I don’t constantly have to be bracing myself for the next thing to hit. For now, I just do what I have to do to ease my anxieties and then I let the moment pass. 

They say the pain of loss gets easier and I do think this is true on a day to day level. I think the trauma stays with us though in ways we never would have imagined and in ways we don’t even notice. I didn’t really have a point to this post tonight. It just happened and then I felt like I should write about it. But I think the takeaway here is that it’s completely okay to feel these feelings when they happen but it’s also really important to remember how powerful positivity can be. Feel your feelings, whatever they are for as long as you need to and then push on to some positive affirmations and say your grateful’s. It makes all the difference.

Everything. Five Years Later.

Five years ago tonight we were in our house on Braeburn. All of us. We were praying, we were waiting, we were saying goodbye again...and again... Making sure we said it all. I told her things that I maybe never would have said while she was here. I hoped she already knew but just in case I told her.

I don’t know if mom ever slept. She might have lied awake next to Robin all night. The rest of us were on couches and chairs and even the floor because the living room was the closest to Robin’s room and we didn’t wanna be far. 

I was woken up on the morning of December 6th and I remember being terrified that I slept and that I was being woken up like this because I thought it meant she was already gone. She wasn’t though, but this time it was time to say goodbye for real. For the last time.

We went into her room and we all stayed in there holding her hand or at least touching her while we still could. For days she hadn’t spoken or hardly opened her eyes. It was probably hours of us telling her that it was okay to let go. She didn’t want to. She did not want to. If there was any chance of a fight to keep her, she would have fought it. 

It was only days before this that we realized this was really going to happen. Only days before that I was calling Kelsey, calling Meagan, calling all of her friends to tell them that this was it. We were going to lose her within days. Calling my close friend Miranda who lost her dad to cancer just the year before to tell her that this was really happening. Coming to terms with it myself. Just days before that, Jessica and I were sitting in the car outside of 7-11 contemplating if she was going to make it or not.

We each spent time trying to ease her mind. We each let her know we were going to be okay without her and that we wanted her to go to Heaven. We told her how much she would love it there. We told her who she would get to see when she got there.

Mom told her that she would drive her there if she could. That she wished she could.

Papa said come on Robin, we’re gonna go sail away to Heaven. 

We told her that the kids were gonna be okay. That we would all make sure they were.

I told her that I know she doesn’t wanna leave me. I know she feels sorry for leaving me here without her but that I know she has to go and it’s okay. You have to understand that for days she couldn’t speak or respond to us. It was probably killing her inside to not be able to say it back. She couldn’t say that she loved us, that she was gonna miss us, that she would stay with us. And I know her. I knew how she felt and I wanted her to know that I understood and that it was all okay. She spent her whole life protecting me and standing up for me and I just wanted to be able to be that for her when she needed it. 

After hours of these conversations, Robin opened her eyes and looked up. Jessica asked her if she saw the light. Wide eyed, she nodded yes. Jessica asked her if she saw Heaven. Yes. Jessica asked, who do you see? Do you see Grandpa and Grandpa and Keeley and all of the people that we love? Again, yes. We told her again that it was okay to go. We told her to go to Heaven. Go see Grandma and Grandpa and Keeley and Chico. They’re all waiting for you. We talked her to Heaven that morning and after all of those hours, just a few minutes later, she was gone.

We may not all be religious or spiritual. My family errs on the side of spiritual. But I’ll tell you one thing, when a moment like this happens in front of your eyes, you’ll know Heaven is real. You’ll know there’s more. Sometimes the person you’ve lost doesn’t visit your dreams and you don’t see signs and it’s easy to lose faith- but I promise you it’s all there.

As they took her away, papa started to sing Amazing Grace. We all sat in the entryway of our home and papa sent her away to Amazing Grace and we all cried and took in the reality of what happened. 

As hard and as traumatic those moments were- all of them from the day she was diagnosed to the moment she was gone- they were moments of beauty. I remember every moment as if it happened yesterday and I would trade it all to have her right next to me sleeping in this bed but you have to see the grace and the overwhelming love and beauty in those moments that we will never forget.

Now, let’s get real for a minute.

Here is what no one talks about when we speak on losing a loved one and grief. 

What happens when your family loses the glue that once held it together?

If you know us, you have heard each member of my family talk so passionately about Robin and who she was and what a special connection each of us had with her. The truth of the matter is, our family has a disconnect that might never be the same as it once was with her here. We do our best. But holidays and birthdays and fucking Tuesday’s for that matter are just not and never will be the same. The person who could break the tension with a funny Stuart impression or a weird dance is gone now. The person who could actually get any one of us to listen to her and calm us down is gone now. There is significantly less laughter and fun in our home. It’s just not the same. And years of this can really take a toll on a family and the relationships within it. It becomes colder, it just changes. And it is because she is gone.

Nobody talks about the feeling of when “Mom Calling” pops up on your phone at a time when you’re not expecting it. Who has cancer? Who died? Something bad has surely happened. And you pick up the phone, holding your breath and she just says “Lainah was wondering what kind of face cream you bought her” and then you explode as if it is in any way her fault that you are traumatized “MOM I thought something happened” before realizing- just for a second- that not every phone call is going to change your life

And for me personally?

The person who holds many if not all of my childhood memories is gone. The nostalgia I hold is different than most because I can’t sit and talk and laugh about all of the most fun times we had as kids and the silly things we said and did and the games we played and the movies we watched because her sisters were years older than her and my sisters are years younger than me and we were our own generation of Ryce girls. We have Christmas and I feel alone. We have a family dinner or party or anything and I feel alone. I’m left all alone. I know that if she did have a choice she would have never left me. I know she didn’t really leave me. But that doesn’t change the feeling.

The night she passed, I slept in her bed. I was having this dream where she was sick in her bed and mom and I were helping her move around. She couldn’t really move or talk. It all felt like a normal dream until she turned her head to me and said “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” and in that moment I knew she was really there in my dream, telling me she was sorry for leaving me. 

Five years later... It still feels like yesterday. The silver lining? The moment we get to see each other in Heaven. I’ll be waiting my whole life for that moment.

The Ball in the Box

It’s 2019. We are coming up on five years. In just a couple of weeks it will be five years since  I got the worst news of my life. In a couple of months it will be my 26th and your 32nd birthday. In a few more months, five years since I got to be next to you. How is this real?

I read somewhere that grief is like a ball inside of a box. On one side of the box there is a red button. At first, the ball takes up most of the box and is hitting the button (which represents pain) over and over again so the pain is constant. Over time the ball gets smaller and bounces around, only occasionally hitting the red button and the grief becomes easier to manage. (If you look this up, it is explained much more gracefully.)

This is the best way that grief can be described. After some time you can float along even for months without the ball hitting the button, feeling like you’ve got everything under control. But it is not under your control and without warning, the ball hits the button and presses down as hard as it can. This is tonight. 

There are different things that get me from time to time. This time it is the memory of the summer that Robin was sick. I’m pretty sure I have mentioned in 80% of my posts how I stayed by her side 24/7, even when we didn’t think it was terminal. This is what is getting me tonight. I stuck next to her whether she wanted me there or not. Sometimes there would be a house full of company who came over to have dinner with us and she just couldn’t get up the energy, so I would make my plate, make her plate, bring it upstairs to her and we would lay there and eat dinner together, by ourselves. We had spent moments like this together for all of our lives and it’s just one of those special, lay in bed, don’t even have to talk to each other bonds. We should have gotten to have those moments for the rest of our lives. 

There are questions I want to ask her. What was the name of that girl we went to elementary school with? What was that one show we used to watch? Do you remember when....? I wanted to tell her when I beat a hard level in Super Mario and I want her to be able to play with me again. And in those moments when I think of a question or have something funny to tell her, I genuinely forget that she’s gone for a second. I pick up my phone and then it hits me and I put it back down and the ball hits the red button and I remember that I have to live the rest of this life without her in it. 

Scarlett

Today I had the pleasure of doing the makeup of a little girl for her 13th birthday. As much as I love doing a glam look for a night out or the excitement of wedding makeup, these little girls are my favourite because they're so excited and their eyes light up and they kind of look at you like a big sister. Like, they think it's so cool that you're taking the time to talk to them and do their makeup and care about what they have to say and you know all the tips and tricks. So I got to talking to her (I actually find kids the easiest humans to converse with) and I learned that she is one of five kids (including step/half siblings) and that she has a 16 year old step sister who is "reallllllllllly good at makeup". Whenever I talk to young girls and find out they have an older sister, I immediately think of my aunt because she was the older sister I never had and I miss that. So I tell her how cool that is and that I didn't have a big sister but I did have an aunt who was only six years older than me so she was like a big sister to me. The girls eyes kind of lit up and I expected her to say what most people say when they learn that: "your AUNT was six years older than you?!" It's sort of unheard of, right? But instead she said "me too! I have an aunt that's six years older than me too!"

Now if I can pause and stop this story for a second, I need to say one thing. Sometimes clients sit down in my chair and within minutes of speaking to them I can tell that they were sent to me for a bigger purpose. Sometimes I feel like the universe was telling me I need to be there for someone emotionally. Sometimes there are moms who have lost their daughters to cancer or young cancer patients who remind me of Robin. Sometimes there are people who just have this heavy vibe about them and I know it's my job to make them feel happy again, even if just for a minute. And sometimes, like today, I feel like these people are sent to me so that I can remember my auntie and share my/her/our story (or even little parts of it.)

So I didn't go into detail or even let her know that my auntie is gone. But I talked to her about what a fun age difference it is and I let her know that the best part is that the older you get, the smaller the age difference seems and you guys get so much closer. It was such a small moment but here I am at home, hours later, thinking about how lucky that little girl is to not only have four siblings but to have that special relationship only I (and few others) can understand, with her auntie. If mine can't be here anymore it makes my heart feel so warm to think of the lifetime that this little girl and I'm sure others will get to spend with their sister-auntie. I imagine what ours would be like all the time.

May 29, 2017

All my childhood memories with Robin are at my nana and papas house in Saltair, in the backyard, at the beach, in a canoe, adventuring, always. The last time I remember being there is before she died. Maybe even before she was sick. After my nana moved out of the house it was a little more rare for me to come around. And especially once Robin was gone, I never wanted to see that place again. I love that house and that beach so much that it hurts but I just couldn't do it without her now. But yesterday we stopped by for the first time in years, I think. I wanted to go take a look at the ocean in the backyard. Our beach. As soon as my feet hit the grass I felt like I was in a different world. Like I had time travelled or something. I walked over and looked over the edge at the water and the smell of the ocean air might as well have completely transported me back to my childhood. After that I just walked around the house and looked at it all. It was so surreal being there and knowing she is gone. I don't get emotional that much anymore about it. I'm more at peace these days and I know she's around so I'm okay. But sometimes little things like the smell of the ocean or looking in her old room gets me good. I really miss my sister today.

This morning at work, I was standing at greet which is the front of the store so I could see the bench outside and I saw this lady feeding a baby. I remember looking at her thinking I wasn't sure if she was that baby's mom or her grandma but not really thinking twice because she was handling her like a pro. Maybe 15 minutes later she came inside with the baby and after making small talk with the baby girl like I always do, I showed the lady what she was looking for. We had just finished finding what she needed and she mentioned something about her daughter passing away. Sad, but I don't really like to pry or ask too many questions so I politely answered her question and almost let her go when she brought up what happened. Her daughter had complained of some pain and before the results of the tests had even come back, she was in the hospital with a terminal cancer diagnosis and gone within the week leaving behind that sweet baby girl and her daddy. I let her talk to me and I told her my story too because I think people want to know they're not alone and I want them to know they're safe with me... That I understand. I know it sounds kind of silly but I have people open up to me often with similar stories to mine and I feel like I'm supposed to meet these people. Maybe Robin sends them to me or maybe they can just sense it in me. Either way, I'm so grateful for these interactions because it makes me feel closer to her and because I want people who maybe think they can't talk about these things to know that they can. I never got her name but I told that lady that in my family, we never let people say they are sorry when we start talking about Robin. It is a privilege and a joy for us to talk about our angel and I hope she finds some pride in keeping her daughters spirit alive too.

This last few days has been full of Robin. Seeing her friends on Saturday night, seeing the house on Sunday, and meeting that lady today and I love that her presence is alive in my life but today I just really really miss her and I wish she didn't have to be gone.

There's Just Some Things That Can't Be Replaced

I really miss my friend Brandon. Like, really really. We used to talk on the phone at least once a day. I would call him sometimes cause I was bored, sometimes cause I missed his voice, sometimes cause I needed a pep talk, and sometimes cause I knew he needed someone to talk to. And now I just go back in time and read our text messages over and over imagining that he's talking to me right now.

I'm not normally someone who makes new friends. I've had a lot of my same friends since I was a kid or a teenager so I never really try to branch out and make new ones. I remember the first time I met Brandon, his personality is like no one I've ever met. His energy is wild yet kind and he is someone who is hard to wrap your head around. I remember that first time thinking "who the hell is this dude, he's crazy". He drove me home back to PA where we both lived and we stopped and had dinner at Cactus (which I'm pretty sure he thought was a date cause he's such a sweetheart) and then I kinda ghosted him for a while after that. He was so wild, he kind of scared me. Months later, he was flying home into Victoria and we went to pick him up, we made this hilarious sign while we waited and somewhere on some phone there's a photo of us after picking him up with this sign. Three of us then proceeded to have a Tuesday Funday during which we got kicked out of two restaurants and a bar and were probably home before midnight hahah... That was a very telling beginning to my friendship with him. I'm not sure when it happened but gradually the friendship took a turn from drinking buddies to friends who talked daily, motivated each other, put each other back on a positive path when things weren't going well, reminded each other of the good in the world and in our lives, and of course, still drinking buddies, Marge and Waldorf.

So I think a lot of people saw the Snapchats and saw us drinking together and figured our friendship was just about fun but when I sit here and think about what I miss about my friend, it's the positivity and the light he brought to my life. It's how much he genuinely cared about all of us, and it's about how I could call him any day, any time, and he would always answer and always know exactly what to say. One thing I've learned in both the loss of Robin and the loss of Brandon is that there's just no replacement or remedy for missing the one person you need when you need them. No one can substitute it and you just can't get it back.


**I was trying to end on a high note here but it didn't really work so next time I'll try to think of more funny stories cause I'm sure that's what B really wants me to tell.

The love will never get lost

I was reading through my blog tonight and getting re-inspired. It's been a while since I've written and I miss it. Some of the things I've written are so inspiring that I can't even believe that I'm the one who wrote it. I wanna get back into it and start writing again but ever since we lost Brandon, I'm at a loss for words. Usually writing is my outlet but losing B, I don't know what to say anymore. I can't say enough good things about my lil angel but I will say this...
He was beautiful inside and out, one of the most kind hearted people I've ever met, probably the most hilarious guy I know. He could make me laugh on my worst days and we could sit on the phone and talk for hours, even sit in silence and it didn't matter. And I'd never end that phone call without making sure he knew I loved him. He thought every person was beautiful and saw them for the good they had deep down in their heart. He loved his family and friends (and strangers for that matter) unconditionally... and even though he was a wild boy, he was genuinely one of the most beautiful souls in this world. I guess I've just wanted to say that for a really long time but even that doesn't seem like enough. I just hope he knows I love him and that his beautiful soul always has a place in my life and my home. I probably won't write about B again for a long time because when he left, it broke my heart and when I try to I just sit here on a blank page and think about the fact that he's really gone. It was time to say something, though, for my best friend who deserves so many lovely things to be said about him. He's a legend, that's for sure.