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Posted on Sunday, November 22, 2009 in Legitimate concerns

A dear member of our family was killed, Monday of this week. I could say all of the obvious things here: that she was a loving mother, sister, wife, inspiring, giving etc. But everyone knows that. Anyone who knows her, knows her even the tiniest bit, already knows that C was all of these things and more. I don’t need to recap on that.

A day after C’s funeral and I am feeling: anger, frustration, sadness, and oddly, hope.

Anger at the asshole who did this, who carelessly ended her life. Angry that they were driving in a piece of shit car with no airbags that should have been dumped long long ago. Angry that not only is she gone, but 3 beautiful kids were also injured and are in a serious bad way right now. Angry that our star athlete may never walk again.

I’m frustrated because I can see everyone in so much pain and there’s nothing I can do. Nothing I can do or say will bring C back or will it make it ok that she’s gone. What I’d like to do is just absorb everyone’s pain into myself and just go out somewhere far away from everyone and everything and just blow myself up to get rid of all of the pain. But even if I could do that, it wouldn’t end the every day pain of missing each and every minute of her life that she should be having right now. I am married to the brother of C’s husband. I am the newest member of their family and I don’t know where I belong–where the boundaries are. I don’t know how, when or where to best show my love and support. I feel like an outsider, an intruder, even though I care for this family, MY family, so very much. This makes me frustrated and unsure. I have always had a hard time letting people in, and this week, I learned that I need to be more flexible in this way. I had always imagined that one day she and I would be great friends, because we seemed so similar–hard to get to know, walls up, but I certainly waited too long. And I am mourning the loss of knowing her better.

Sadness comes and goes, because I am also hopeful. When we first got the call and rushed to the hospital, I was scared, confused and in shock. My sadness gives way to hope when I realize that I am lucky to be alive. Not only am I lucky to be alive, but I am lucky to be alive and able to give of myself in the way that she always did. I have the opportunity to tell my husband that I love him, one more time. With C’s passing, I have been handed a gift of knowing that everything that I have, family that I have, every minute I live and breathe is an absolute gift.  I don’t want to waste a single minute of my life not telling people that I love them, showing them my love. To tell you the truth, I’m ashamed that it takes something like this for me to wake up and realize the value of what I have, how fortunate I am to be where I am, with the people who are here. Nothing is promised in this life, to be sure. I’m going to go enjoy it while I can.

C may have left the physical world, but I see her everywhere.

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