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.
