The Day My Sister Died

i remember it so vividly, like it happened just yesterday.  But it didn’t.  It’s been eight months.  EIGHT MONTHS.  I can’t believe you’ve been gone that long.  We were sitting in that room in the hospital that no one ever wants to enter.  It’s the “Family Room” where the social worker sits with her compassionate face and words; where the staff brings you things like soda and cookies all for free.  We were jam packed into that room.  My sister was such a strong force that everyone wanted to be there to see her one last time before the machines were turned off.   We were just sitting there. 

 

We stood around her bed and held hands while the priest prayed over her.  We all joined in prayer as well.  We watched as the doctor and nurse disconnected all the machines.  We saw my sister open her eyes one last time and take her last breath.  We stood there as my niece fell on the floor crying, as my parents watched their oldest child die.  People stood around for a respectable amount of time and then began filtering out.  We were ushered into the family room to allow time for my brother-in-law to say his private goodbye to my sister. 

 

Sitting in that room – that damn room – people occasionally got up to step out, make a phone call, go outside for air, go back in to visit my sister.  I just sat there.  My mother came in and made a phone call that no mother should ever have to make – she called the funeral home to pick up my sister’s body.  I couldn’t take it any longer.  My family was there, my children and their spouses; but I couldn’t sit there any longer.  I HAD to leave.  I felt I should be there for my mother, make sure she was ok.  It’s what my sister would have wanted.  I was losing my composure though, I was losing my patience.  I couldn’t be nice any longer.  I HAD to leave. 

 

Why am I going there today?  Why today of all days?  It’s not a Friday, it’s not the 4^th of the month, and it’s not my sister’s birthday.  Why today?  I’ve been at my new job for two weeks and this is the first time that I have cried here.  I can’t control it any more now than I could have that morning.  That awful Friday morning, on the 4^th of January, 2013.  The day my life changed forever.  The day I lost my sister.