Yesterday was the six month marker of Kelly’s death. This post is going to be completely honest, and I don’t know that I always am honest about how I’ve been since March 17th.

Kelly was so much to me. She was not only my older sister, she was a second mother. And while that was annoying sometimes, I guess I kind of was blind to it sometimes. I didn’t want a second mother, I didn’t want her to watch out for me all the time. It was hard to live in a small room with four other people. There was a lot of tension. Even when Kelly was in the hospital, it only increased everything. Yes, there were only three of us in the room then, but it was hard because it meant that something was wrong. Watching not only your sister, but a lot of other kids, get sick is something that stays with you. While it was happening, I was always trying to run from it. I always listened to music, or wanted to be doing something, just so I didn’t have to sit and stare cancer in the face. Before we left Seattle, I think I knew what was happening. Kelly started falling asleep all the time, even when she was in the middle of doing something. It scared me, and yet I kept trying to not believe that she was dying. I didn’t want to think about life without her. Because it seemed impossible. The days that we were home are a bit of a blur. I just remember that then Kelly was in the hospital, and then it just went fast. And it seemed every time you saw her, it just got worse and worse. I faintly remember then going to Great Falls to get Marcy and the boys, and then after that spending most of my time with Gavin. Because I didn’t want to see my sister. And that’s something I regret. I wish I would have spent more time with her that last week. I wish I finally would have stopped running from it. When we went to the hospital right after she died, I still wouldn’t look at her. I caught a glimpse, and that was enough. I still see that image of her, and that’s what’s hard. While pictures of her smiling and laughing hang on my walls, in my head, I still see her very sick in that hospital. I know it’s important for me to be at school now, and to just push through this, but I don’t know how. Because now I’m not running from the fact that she was sick, and that she’s not here with us. And I don’t know how to deal with those facts. And while my family goes through the same grief, it feels different. We’re all at different places in our lives, and we all knew Kelly in different ways. Opening my eyes in the morning takes an unbelievable amount of energy. Then going and seeing people who don’t really know what’s going on, takes that much more energy. And then I go home, finally, and then it’s there, because Kelly is still a part of my life. And when I get through the night and lay down in my bed, it breaks me. I see here everywhere, and even when I’m exhausted I don’t want to sleep because I’m scared of what I’ll see when I close my eyes and my mind starts to wander. And when people tell me I’m strong, I don’t feel that way. Because I feel completely lost, and confused, and I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t run from it, and pretend like nothing happened, but it’s so painful to accept it. And while people tell me this horrible feeling will pass someday, it’s hard to believe. Because it’s hard to imagine that I’ll make it through another night or a day or a week.

Six months seemed to go by fast. And while that could be comforting, it’s not. It could be a blessing that time goes by fast. But right now, I don’t see it that way. It just scares me. And I find myself wondering what’s going to happen to the rest of us. How much longer do I have? My family? My friends? The mind of this thirteen year-old is too full, and I don’t know what to do with myself or my thoughts.


6 Responses to “Thoughts”

  1. Hurting with you. Praying for you.

  2. painfully honest. hard to respond to. though school and other activities are difficult, they still offer a reprieve from the pain. it’s still there, the aching is still there, but your mind, my mind is occupied with something else. a chance to take a breather from the incredible sorrow.
    i don’t know Rose, how to make it better or if we can. i just know i love you so much and i know you did the very best you could with the shock of it all.
    kelly loved mothering you – i will be forever grateful to you for allowing her to do that.

  3. My prayers and thoughts are with you, Rose. I wish so very much that I could take away your pain, even if just for a few moments. I pray that God will give you peace and comfort I think it is very courageous of you to be so vulnerable and open about your feelings.


  4. Rose,

    I do understand so much of what you are going through. I know your feelings of loss are instensfied as you deal with everything you had to face at the age of 13.

    I struggled every day this week to get out of bed, even on the weekend. It seems that so many of the things I used to love are now tinged with sorrow, sadness, The grief process is so long and uneven and at times is overwhelming.

    I am sorry that you are hurting. I wish I could ease the pain you are feeling.

    I pray for your entire family and especially for you and Molly.

    Wishing you peace and healing moments and hope those come to you more frequently.

    I wish I could do more for you. I stand at your side in this journey.


  5. Rose, How incredible brave you are to open up your heart for us all to see…and at 13! I think it is incredibly healthy for you to be writing your feelings out in words, and not stuffing your feelings. It is so hard, because all people grieve differently. Sometimes, after my mom and dad died, I would wonder how some of my family moved on so much quicker than me. It didn’t make them wrong and me right, it was just different. I know I felt like I wished that the whole world could stop, because I wasn’t ready to get back in it. But unfortunately, it doesn’t stop. I remember feeling angry about that, because it was so hard to jump back in…You are a very brave girl and have a lot of feelings to work through… Almost all of your life you lived with Cancer, and now it seems like you are trying to learn how to fit into a world without Cancer and Kelly. She was an incredible girl and fought so hard for life… A lesson we can all learn from her…You may grieve for longer than other members of your family or you may grieve less, but the most important thing is that you experience all the phases of grief, and each step is hard and exhausting. But you are an extremely brilliant writer, and you write beautiful poems, and express your feelings in such a way that is healthy for you and for those of us that read about them. We all have regrets, after we lose someone we love, and wish that we would have done or said something differently. But unfortunately, there are no do-overs in this part of life. We all do what we can to get us through a day, and know in our hearts that we were doing the best we could do at the time. Hind site is 20-20, they say….I hope you know that we love you, and continue your writing…. It will help heal your heart, and will help all of us who read your poems, and your feelings, and just parts of your daily life. What a gift you have.. Hugs and Kisses to you…. Becky

  6. Rose,

    I love you and really don’t know what to say. I know we all feel the loss in our own way, but if there is anything your dad can do for you, please let me know. I LOVE you and wish I could take away all of the pain.

    With Love Always,

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