The year of firsts. Everyone warned me, but there's simply no avoiding the feeling in the pit of my stomach when I can't push reality as far back in my mind as it will go anymore.
You had to leave us at the end of September, and then came Halloween (your favorite holiday, and you'd almost always dress up as a gypsy.) Then came all the other winter holidays that I don't remember even breathing through until I found myself almost blinded by my own tears while driving home on Christmas Eve. It was the overwhelming thought that this was only the first of many holidays without you that sent me over the emotional edge.
Then came April. The second wave of everything at once. Your first birthday without you here, and exactly one week later, my first birthday without you here. No butchered "happy birthday" song shortly after midnight at the exact minute that I was born. No "I love you, Noella Bella!" from the other end of the phone. No upcoming plans to celebrate our birthdays together, the way it's supposed to be and the way it's always been. You were supposed to have more birthdays, dammit!
But when all the emotions are pouring out, I know you can hear me. I know you are there with me, and I know you know how much I miss and love you. Sometimes, I feel like I'm not sad enough for it being the first year without you. I feel like people don't realize how much I really really love you and how much I miss you every second of every day because the way I have reacted to losing you isn't what people expect, especially not me.
I remember being serious abou kind of really wanting the world to end in December 2012. I remember telling people I could not imagine living in this world without my parents, and some day, they would have to leave. When you were diagnosed 8 months later, I felt like I had jinxed you and jinxed myself. This could not all be real. Walking out of the Hilman center that day, I couldn't imagine how I would get through it; how we would go on without you. But you didn't give us the option to dwell on it. You told us it would be okay, and you told us you were sorry it had to be this way. You were the one who just found out YOU had terminal cancer, and there you were telling US you were sorry. ("Classic Jazazzle" :)) You reminded us of the importance of living every day because you could have 1 year left on this earth or you could have 10, but a day wasted being sad is a day you will never get back. You told us you would just have to spend the next year showing us and telling us, every second of every day, how much you love us so we could remember it long after you were gone.
And that was the key to it all. There weren't any doubts. There were no huge unanswered questions. We told you how much we love you, we thanked you for everything you did to make us who we are, and we promised we would be okay. And somehow, despite the year of firsts, we really are. And it's all because of you.
Though I have my moments and my breakdowns, somehow i wake up every day and it never feels like you are too far away. I know you must visit me in my dreams, and I know it has to be you that brings me a sense of peace every morning when I wake up, knowing you are in a better place and knowing how lucky I am to have had you for 28 years.
I will miss hugging you when I step off the plane, but I won't miss the confusion in your face or that feeling in my heart as I saw the result of what cancer and chemo and radiation had done to your brain and your spunk. Every time I came home, I couldn't deny that you had slipped further away into an adorable, child-like shell of the strong, vibrant, independent woman who raised me. I smile about the funny memories we had with that goofy little character that cancer had somehow so gracefully turned you into, but I remember the person you really were, and I have no doubt that you are that person once again.
Cancer-free, worry-free, and most likely still clumsy as all hell.
I love you and I miss you. Thank you for loving me through the year of firsts. Please be there for Taylor this weekend as she tries to cope with the reality of turning 35 and deals with the smartass comments I most likely will be unable to hold back, and please help her to understand why I can no longer hang out with her because I don't associate with 35 year-olds.
