The Quiet

On Saturday, I picked up your death certificates. The paper that officially says you are gone. Reading your name on that piece of paper hurt, like a knife, straight into my heart. I'm still trying to figure out how to recover from this. After picking those up, I told Casey I had to go check on you. It probably sounds bizarre because you are dead, and the worse possible thing that could have happened to you, already happened. There isn't much I can do at this point. Although believe me, I've thought of a hundred ways to undo all of this, a hundred ways that won't work. I had to make sure you were okay anyway. I no longer get to worry about how you are constantly, and there is nothing I can do to make it better. I can't just bring you groceries when you tell me you haven't been eating well, call you when I know you are having a bad day, or rush to Indianapolis to bring you home with me when you have had to once again, go through something awful. Those are no longer options. So checking up on your body to make sure it's still there and the flowers aren't a mess is the only thing left. That's all I have left of being your sister.
The worst is here. That time I said would be the hardest because everyone is gone, the texts, calls and Facebook messages have mostly stopped. The older kids are at school, Ally is asleep and here I am, alone in the quiet. Alone to think about you. Alone to feel my heart breaking with no need to pretend I'm not dying too. Some of it is my own fault. I haven't exactly been returning calls, or responding to messages or comments. These times when I'm lonely, when I have a lot going on and I need to talk to someone, these are the times I would call you. Not to say I haven't tried, because for a few split seconds I have tried to call you, not to talk to your voicemail, because for a brief moment, I thought you would pick up. My chest physically hurt, I threw up, and then sobbed uncontrollably. I always knew I needed you. I knew that if someone happened to you, it would be the hardest fight of my life. The fight to stay alive.
I don't know if the person who did this didn't think about all of this, about how they don't just destroy one life, but the lives of many by taking one. Or maybe they did, and they didn't care. I want to know who did this to you. Who took you away from this world, and who took you away from me, me away from you. Why do our lives always have to be so tragic, Kobi? It's just Mom and me left. Do you remember that happy family of 4 who lived in that tiny house on Washington St? We were happy for quite some time, and then it started to unravel. It ended with a suicide and our family being devastated. But we had each other. We were always close, but after that, we grew so much closer. You were my everything. You are still everything to me. At least I know that the immense amount of pain I am feeling, is because we shared a bond, and love so strong, and so incredibly special. I wouldn't trade this pain for lesser, because I wouldn't trade our closeness for anything.

I don't see your posts on Facebook anymore, you aren't around for the big moments, or just because. You don't call me to talk about derby or because you just wanted to chat. My phone is quiet. This house is unusually quiet. This is my new normal, my own personal hell. The quiet.

I love you more than you know, and miss you so very much.

Sis