12-18-15

Earlier tonight I went out to grab some groceries and for some reason I decided to go to a grocery store a little out of my way that I don't normally go to. When I was done, I went to wait at the bus stop there to go home and I found myself standing across the street from a Sands funeral home staring into their warmly lit main room with a beautiful brightly decorated Christmas tree. Too familiar. Am I the only one who looks inside of a funeral home and thinks it looks warm and inviting? Maybe. Maybe it was the Christmas tree that sent chills through my body. Or maybe it was my aunt saying "I'm with you." Either way, this sent me back in time to one year and a few days ago when I walked into a funeral home for the first time in my life. We walked down the stairs with PJ's and makeup in hand to prepare Robbie. I was scared. I didn't want to walk in first. When I finally did step in, the first thing I thought was "why is it so cold in here?" that thought immediately went away when I saw my auntie lying on the table. We dressed her and did her makeup and it honestly didn't feel different than when she were alive and sick. As all of these experiences have been, this one was scary, heartwarming, and peaceful. And I'd do it again for her in a heartbeat. Would she want someone else dressing her or doing her makeup the wrong way or placing her bobby pins in her hair wrong? No. She would want us to do it as always.

So tonight as I stared into the window of the Sands funeral home, I thought about the people who's lives were lost this holiday season who were laying cold in rooms inside. I thought of the families of those people (those angels) who had to go prepare or see their loved ones one last time during what is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year. The families who would see that tree on their way in and while that tree would make that place feel more warm and comforting, it will remind them that Christmas is one week away and that their loved one won't be there.

As I said last Christmas... Look around the room on Christmas Day. Is your person there? Your closest sibling or your favourite cousin or whomever it may be... If they are in that room, love them. Love that person and the rest of your people and appreciate it all. Because a year can change EVERYTHING and you can't imagine what it feels like to forget what your normal blissful ignorance felt like. And if they aren't there anymore and you didn't really feel like getting dressed up and you really really really noticed that there was one less gift to buy and your Christmas is just a little less of a celebration... We feel you. You are not alone.

I'll Spend My Whole Life Trying To Put It Into Words

You know that feeling when a baby looks at you and it's like you're their whole world and they love you unconditionally and they know they can just trust you? When my auntie was really sick, that's how she looked at me. She generally listened to my mom. My mom took care of her and she usually knew just what to say to make Robin understand when we needed to do something or we needed to make a decision, big or small. But sometimes... There was a way about my softspoken voice and an unthreatening manner about the fact that I was and had always always always been on her side for our whole lives that if mom couldn't make her understand, I could. Sometimes she just didn't wanna hear it from the person who had all the rules and all the medicine and had to make all the tough calls. That's where I came in. And let me tell you as much as I wish we didn't have to make any decisions or talk about any of those things, it sure felt good to look her in the eyes after she'd refused mom over and over and say "hey... I know we don't wanna do this but you know I'd only be telling you this if it was really important. Do you think maybe we could talk about it?" and have her think for a minute and go... "Yeah... Okay." To look her in the eyes with true love and give her a reassuring nod and have that change her mind and help her understand... That was amazing.
There were days when she didn't wanna see friends or that she didn't understand that a friend was coming to say goodbye when only I could be the voice of reason. When she didn't want anymore motherfucking medicine and only I could talk her into it. Of course she always listened to mom but sometimes she only wanted to hear it from me. I have never felt more loved than that.

There were times... Those last four days... She couldn't talk. She could barely lay there for that matter... And friends and family would come in to talk to her for those last few times. She could hear and she could understand but she couldn't respond. I know her, that killed her. She would have wanted to participate in everything we were doing outside of her room or at least to have those final conversations. That was the last sisterly thing I did for Robin. I was lucky enough to get to know almost every side of her in our 21 years (there were many) so I sat next to her in bed and "responded" the way Robin would have wanted to. Made the jokes Robin would have made. Helped her be present in a moment when she was almost already gone.

If you're ever questioning true, unconditional love... This is my definition.

Hello From The Other Side

Maybe on this day last year and maybe on one just like it, I set my bed up the long way so that myself, my sisters and my cousin Bella could all fit. We picked a happy movie and we cuddled in. We didn't really fit still but it didn't matter. We were together. We were sisters, all four of us. Our moms were an hour away in a hospital room with our Auntie Robbie, taking care of her, being there for her, and praying for her. I read our angel cards. (Similar to tarot cards, angel cards let you know what path lies ahead and which angels are with you.) I got good at reading them for myself and my family and the cards we constantly pulled were celebration, nature, and Archangel Michael. Then we said a prayer. We aren't a religious family and we don't pray before meals but in those moments, we wanted the girls to know how important it is to pray to God, or the universe, or whatever/whomever is out there, especially in hard times and we were willing to do anything to save her. Bella, forever terrified of prayers and anything supernatural, screamed and covered her ears (lol), and me and my sisters prayed. We prayed for Auntie Robbie to come home. We prayed for her to feel better and to get better... For her to be our Auntie Robbie again, like she used to be. Then they all proceeded to stretch out as wide as they could and take over my bed. I barely fit but I didn`t have the heart to leave them that night because they missed their moms and we missed our auntie and they needed me.

Tonight, I`m alone in my apartment. I made a bed on my living room floor wishing that Robin was here making dinner and making a floor bed and snuggling her million cats with me. I turned on the kids movie Inside Out because we loved watching kids movies and I miss our traditions. These are things I have to do alone now. This year, I am reliving all of these memories alone. This year my sisters don't snuggle into my bed and I don`t sleep on the living room floor just steps away from Robbie`s room. My heart isn`t full of hope and prayers like last year and my house isn`t quite as warm as my parents house.

Two days ago a medium came to my house. She sat down and read my aura... And just as suddenly as she started, she stopped and said... "I can`t avoid this any longer. Your aunt is here. She is dancing around in front of me and she doesn`t want me to talk about the colors anymore. She wants to talk to you. She has so much to tell you that she`s saying so many different things to me, I don`t even know where to start." You don`t have to believe in these things, but I do. And I can tell you that the things this person said to me were unbelievably real. They were things she couldn`t just know. I talked to my auntie two days ago for the first time in a little less than a year and my heart is so full.

Everyday this year has been "one year later" and today is no different. The only difference is, on this day, one year later, I have never felt my auntie's presence so strongly. I have never been more sure of her signs. I have never been more comfortable in an empty bed as I am knowing that if I ask her to sleep next to me, she is there. And I have never missed her more.

11:11

This year has already been full of "one year anniversaries" regarding Robin's sickness. One year since she was diagnosed. One year since her last birthday. One year since we went tubing down the river as a family. One year since we thought we were in the clear. I am constantly reminded. As we come up on the worst "one year anniversaries", almost at the worst one yet, I am reminded that my aunt is an angel who doesn't leave my side and that she knows I still need her to be with me. She isn't gone, I just can't see her. A little while back, some of my family and our friends posted these links on Facebook about spirituality and the meaning of seeing 11:11, 1:11, 12:34... Etc. Repetitive numbers on clocks and how it meant that you are on the right path in life if you constantly see these numbers. I myself believe in spirituality and that the universe has a plan and all of that kind of stuff but I am also a logical person so I don't always believe everything. I can be skeptical sometimes. I read those links and moved on. I didn't read too much into it. Now, something about myself... I have never really felt like I was where I was meant to be. I've lived in a lot of different town/cities both on and off of this island. I've tried new things and moved and tried new things again. I've lived in Vancouver and worked at a busy Cactus Club and did the city thing and I've lived in Ladysmith and lived the small town life to the fullest (which I still do from time to time), but no place or person ever felt like home. (Besides my aunt.) In all that searching, I would always just end up back in my parents house. Back to square one. When Robin was sick, I moved home. I needed to be with her. I worked a couple of jobs but they never lasted because I really just wanted to be in bed next to her and I don't regret that decision. But after she left, I decided that this is my time to make my life everything I've always wanted it to be. Nothing was holding me back and there was no reason I couldn't take a leap of faith... But the difference was, it was going to last this time.

So, I moved back to the only city that has ever felt like home since I moved out of my hometown. I moved into a cute little apartment by myself that I'm in love with and I even got my dream job. I made absolutely incredible friends who I now consider family... And aside from this being the hardest year of my life, it has absolutely been the best year of my life. There have been rocky moments but where I am now is worth it all.

Now, back to the 11:11 thing... Last month I started noticing that I would see 11:11 on the clock here or there which I never did before. I thought nothing of it. But as the days went on, I would see 11:11/1:11 sometimes four times daily. The other day, I saw 11:11 on a broken clock when it wasn't even 11:11. It is everywhere. There are no coincidences. These things happen all around us if you believe and if you pay attention. This one is big for me though. For me, this one is Robin saying... You're doing it all right. I'm proud of you. Because this girl used to come to my house and clean once a month. This girl used to cook me frozen dinners so I wouldn't have to do it myself. This girl moved me to a new city... The very city that I consider home now. This girl got me my first job and helped me become an adult. So I know that even from Heaven or wherever she is, she is looking at me and thinking that I'm exactly where I should be and that maybe she doesn't have to worry so much anymore. I'm gonna be just fine.

8/16/15 - 1:51 AM

This tragedy brings out every emotion in me at one time or another. Sometimes I feel proud of her and her strength. Sometimes I'm angry that she's gone. Sometimes I feel happy and lucky that I have an angel watching over me. Sometimes I get sad. And sometimes this absolutely devastating feeling overwhelms me and my eyes widen and I lose my breath because she is gone. She is gone and the smell of her house is gone and the way she makes pasta is gone and we don't get to make her bed together and I don't have to be annoyed at her nightlight anymore and we don't get to watch the kitties find their bedtime spots and I don't get to heat up a blanket for her or give her a mani/pedi even though I despise doing nails or bring her a snuggly kitty when she needs love or look her in the eye with that look of... "We're doing this, aren't we?". All of those things and so many more have brought me to this moment so many times. Today it's the weather. We're still in the dead of summer but it looks like fall outside of my window. It's probably going to rain so I put on my jacket and when I walk out the door, cold air hits my face. The last time I felt this air, she was in the fight of her life and I thought of nothing but her. I went to work and counted the seconds until I was home with her. I would go to a party or to Vancouver and wonder why I even left. The turning leaves and the cold air make me think of her house with the heater blasting and tea in our his and hers teacups (lol). Snuggling with her fur babies and making dinner together. Her fall decorations came out before the kids were even back in school and even though her house was warm we would share a blanket and snuggle up on the couch. (Without actually touching of course.) I'm sure these moments become fewer and farther between but I doubt they become any easier. Sometimes, like tonight, I just wanna go home to my aunties house and find a spot in her bed amidst all the snuggly cats and listen to the fan I hate and stare at the nightlight I hate and smell her Blistex and mouthwash that smells like Robin and nana both and wake up and do this life all over again with her... And sometimes I just wish I was dancing in the sky with you.

To Heaven; via Balloon

Seven months later... It is still hard every day

My life has never been better, thanks to you I'm sure...

...But I can't even begin to express how much I need you in my life

This sucks and I hate it.



Even though I don't always feel you, thank you for staying

I know you're always with me even when I don't see signs


I love you more than you knew... I'm sure you know now

Come visit me in my dreams soon


PS Thanks for teaching me to be the best auntie in the world (after you of course)

Jax and Brody and all our babies are the loves of my life...
And now we get to love on Meagan and Kanisha's babies too.
I truly learned it from the best.

Love, your unofficial baby sister

XO, Riah

Okay...

So, I have been avoiding the movie "The Fault In Our Stars" for quite some time. I guess I was scared it would hit too close to home or it would ruin my life and I would never be the same and wish I hadn't watched it. One of those things is true. It hit so close to home, it may as well have blown my home into a million little pieces. In this movie, from the first minute to the last minute, there are nothing but profound and truthful moments and words. John Green, unfortunately, understands cancer all too well. The one that got me the moment it was said and that I couldn't stop thinking about even after the movie was long over... "The Last Good Day".

“There’s no way of knowing that your last good day is Your Last Good Day. At the time, it is just another good day.”

It's hard to remember because looking back, it's all just a blur, but I believe Robin's last good day was a Monday. December 1, 2014. Just five days before she left us. Our favorite cousin, (sorry other cousins), Emily came over for a movie night and a sleepover. Those days, Robin was not excited much. She didn't want to eat dinner. She didn't want to make a joke or hear a joke or laugh with us anymore. Emily always put a smile on her face, though. The way Robin is my sister is the same way that Emily is her sister, too. We always had kind of a tough time actually deciding on a movie, but it was a no brainer that it would be a Christmas movie. We settled on Jack Frost. I had maybe watched it once or twice as a kid with her but it always stuck in my mind as a movie that made me think of her. I think we had homemade burgers for dinner. Robin never wanted to eat but Emily made a plate and Robin shockingly shared with her. They held hands and we quietly watched Jack Frost. I did not leave my post, right next to her. I never did unless I HAD to. I remember my mom talking about The Last Good Day in the next day or two after that. I remember asking her... "When do you think it will be?" "I think that was it." And that was the moment I knew. That was her Last Good Day.

You will never know that it's the last good day. As Hazel Grace says, "at the time, it's just another good day." But as the next few days passed and she couldn't leave her bed, and then she couldn't speak, and then she could hardly look at us for more than a second, it became blatantly clear... That was the Last Good Day. Had we known, we would have done more. We would have said more. We would have loved more (if that were even possible). But we didn't, and you can't know. So take every good day for what it is, because you never know if it's the last one.

How Can We Not Talk About Family When Family's All That We Got

Midnight panic attacks are never fun. They don't come often and they probably can't properly be described as a panic attack but for a moment I'm taken aback and I lose my breath and tears stream down my face. Just for a moment though, when I realize you're not coming back. They come when I get excited to come home and see you or when I'm at our old familiar places or when I get lost on your Facebook and I can hear your voice in your status updates and forget that it's not 2013 and you're not going to respond to my comment. I get as far back as three or four years and I see something funny so instinct still tells me to text you and make fun of you. They come when I realize I haven't seen your face in almost six months... When I realize I haven't seen you happy and well in almost a year, and when I realize that six months is a number that's going to keep growing for six years and sixteen years and sixty years and forever. No one tells you about the midnight panic attacks. They tell you that life will be harder to live and they tell you how unfair it is and they tell you how you'll never stop missing them but no one tells you what's real. And what's real is that life day to day is easy. We live and we smile and laugh and dance and work and we play but then midnight rolls around and you have something funny to say or you need to talk to the one person who just gets you and you almost say it until you realize... Oh yeah, she's gone.

Almost Everything I Wish I'd Said The Last Time I Saw You

I almost wrote this on your Facebook wall but I didn't. It's not for anyone else but you. I'd mail this to Heaven if I could.

I'm not ready for it to be May yet. You were diagnosed in May. That day and that phone call don't seem far away. I cried and called Miranda and then I was on the first bus to your new house. You picked me up and I remember the car ride feeling awkward. I'll never know why. You were still you. That weekend we were all there. It was a typical weekend but there was a silence and a sickness about it. We knew that the unthinkable was about to happen to you, but we didn't know what that meant yet. We couldn't have dreamed in our wildest dreams what was about to happen to you and how our lives would fall apart. I left with my head held high. I never cried, I never thought twice about whether you would live. You stayed strong, you never made me feel like I had anything to worry about. I told you "it's scary, but I know you'll be okay." I meant that and I felt it until December 1st. That's when we knew it was all over.

I'm not ready for my first summer without you. I live my life without you and I never hesitate. I have sad moments but I keep going because you would want that and I know you're always right beside me. I have fun and I never feel guilty but summer was ours since I could walk and I don't want to do this one or any of them without you. Super Soaker Twister in the backyard even though I was a baby and a cheater and annoying and you probably didn't wanna let me play. You always did anyway. Canoe rides with papa until we were old enough to go by ourselves. One thing never changed, me being a baby, scared of everything. Me being annoying and making you do all the work. (I see a pattern here.) You loved me anyway. We could literally spend hours barefoot on our beach turning over rocks to look for crabs, (you holding them, me being a baby as per usual), We were ocean babies, barefoot sisters running wild on Rumble Road. Water balloon fights and forest adventures. We had quite the childhood. I needed you then and I need you now. I will dance barefoot on the beach every summer for you but I'll never be able to stop my heart from needing you beside me. And you better believe I will celebrate your birthday harder than my 19th. (Maybe God knows what actually happened that night, you should ask him.)

Stay with me. I love you. I wish you were here. I wish you were right beside me in this bed smelling like Blistex and mouthwash, cuddling kitties. I wonder if there's an ocean in Heaven? If there is, we'll find it. See you there.

Cancer Takes Everything

Something you all might not know about cancer... It takes EVERYTHING. No matter how positive and strong you are, it slowly and eventually takes everything from you. It takes your integrity, your sense of humor, your privacy, your body, your mind, your hair, your memory, your appetite, your vocabulary and your spirit. It takes so much more than that too. Things you'll never understand unless you yourself are faced with that terrible reality. I read this poem on Facebook today. It's an Alzheimer's poem and it describes things from an Alzheimer's patients point of view. I read it and immediately burst into tears because, little do people know, this is what eventually happens to people with terminal cancer. This is the end. This is heartbreaking but this is the level of love and patience that I had for my beautiful auntie even when she could hardly say my name. I would do it all over again every single day of my life. I would never give up on her. It's hard for people to understand the reality of cancer and what it really takes from the sick ones and the loved ones alike. There are things you'll never understand about our/Robbie's journey but this will give you a little insight on just how hard things can get. One thing you should know though is that even though this is what became of our angel near her final days here on Earth with us, she would have suffered through it for as long as she had to if it meant she could stay with us.

When You Lose Something You Can't Replace...

I guess people think they understand what it's like for us, or for me, to lose Robin but I don't think they do. Sometimes I get frustrated with other people who I know can't possibly miss her as much as I do and sometimes I can't look at her Facebook page because it's hard to see other people grieving when I feel like she's mine. I think that no one can understand what it's like to watch your auntie/sister slowly get sicker and weaker and finally be forced to give up even though she does NOT want to go. I don't think they know how it feels to be willing to do anything, to give ANYTHING to let her live. Even my own life. I don't think they understand how it feels to be so genuinely filled with blind hope and really believe that she will pull through until the moment you realize... She can't anymore. I don't think they know how much you have to love someone to prepare their body and do their makeup the way they liked it after they're gone. And most importantly, I don't think anyone can understand how it feels to lose the ONLY sunshine in your life. My darkest days and my hardest moments (whether she knew it or not) only came to light when I saw her face or heard her voice. Her home was my safe haven and my place to refresh and hide out... And she never complained about my week-long stays. These are never things we talked about but I know she knew. There's honestly no one in my life who ever felt more like home than her and I don't think I'll ever have that again. The frustration of not being able to go to Heaven to see her is the worst feeling I've ever felt.

One time when we were little, maybe we were 6 and 12, I came over to my nana and papa's house and was greeted my Robin running into my arms screaming "I had the most terrible nightmare ever! There was a man chasing you, trying to get you and I tried to save you and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't. NEVER LEAVE ME AGAIN!" Well, that dream is all too real now. I wish this was just a dream. I wish I could have saved her so badly but more than that I wish I could wake up and run into her arms screaming "I had the most terrible nightmare EVER!!!"

My Only One, Just Like The Morning Sun

Say what you will about Kanye but this song is a direct line to my heart... I can't wait for the life Robin is gonna lay out for me. I know she talks to God about me and I know that if she can't be here to influence my life, she's gonna do it from Heaven and any angels I'm blessed with will be sent by their Auntie Robbie. On days like today when I look back one year and remember that I stayed with her for two weeks and we spent Valentines Day on a sushi/Brew Pub date, I need songs like this. This is what art is for. Other people's pain and passion turned into something beautiful to show the rest of us we're not alone and to remind us of the silver lining. But God, I can't wait to get to Robbie's house one day.

"And next time when I look in your eyes

We'll have wings and we'll fly"

It Doesn't Feel Like Almost Two Months.

In honor of our favorite song to cry to as kids. Never thought it would be so relevant. Miss you. Wish you were here.

Oh where, oh where, can my baby be? 
The Lord took her away from me.
She's gone to heaven so I've got to be good, 
So I can see my baby when I leave this world

Stay Stay Stay

Tonight, almost 4 AM as usual, I was writing Robin's "story" for what will be The Team Robbie Foundation's website. Whenever I write about Robin as an auntie, I always write with passion and pride. As her first niece who got to share 21 and a half years of her life with her, I truly believe that I know what being an auntie meant to her. The responsibility meant EVERYTHING and she took such pride in it. I am extremely proud to be her niece. As I was writing, I started to look back on her final moments here with us. I remember that in her final moments when she was finally accepting the light and the angels, there were a few things holding her back. There were a few things left that we had to reassure her would be okay. One of those things was me. Robin took care of me and I know she felt guilty for leaving me. There was never a lack of care from my parents, grandparents or anyone else in my family for that matter. I was the favorite as a child, I'm not afraid to admit it. (I was effing adorable.) But Robin and I always had this bond where I knew she would have done anything to protect me. She took her responsibility as my aunt seriously and she knew how much I depended on her. In her final moments I had to tell her I would be okay without her and that it was okay for her to leave me. I had to say those things even though it tore my heart into a million trillion little pieces. I am not okay without her and I don't know if I ever will be. I will live my life and I will take care of myself and I'll be fine, but I'll never be the same. I will always wish she were still here to take care of me. I'll be missing her company and her protection and her advice every single day of my life. I'm at peace with where Robin has gone and I know she's here even when I can't feel her but I don't know how I'm supposed to live the whole rest of my life without her voice or her laugh or our awkward side hugs or even her scolding voice telling me I shouldn't have done something. I sit here and try to imagine things like my wedding or the birth of my future children and I honestly can't imagine those things anymore now that she's gone. How can I have that without her and why should I have it if she can't? This grieving process is like running into a brick wall over and over. I am grieving the loss of the one person who could make this grief okay. She should be here in her bed laying next to me right now. She should've been sitting beside me at the funeral that never should have had to happen. She should be here for every single day of my life and even though I told her I'd be okay, I still have to live 80 years without her. That is not okay.