Spilled Milk

Kobi,

You've heard the saying, "No use crying over spilled milk." Well, today, there was. The weekend that I helped you move was a crazy weekend. We got to your house Friday evening and Casey and I helped you move all the big furniture well into the night into your new apartment. You were stressed about the move, but you were so hopeful and excited to see what new scenery could do for you. After a bad break up, this was the right move for you, of that, I had no doubts(at the time, anyway). I loved hearing you talk about your bright, bright future. All the plans you had for yourself, your team, and us. I loved it! I always wanted the best for you.

Saturday, the night after we moved your big items, I got up at 5 am because I knew you were freaking about not being moved on time. I wanted to get there bright and early to help you finish. On my way there I remembered you being worried about not having enough groceries to get you through the week, so I knew I needed to stop by Walmart and pick some up for you. I grabbed all of your favorites, chocolate syrup, milk, cheese pizza, even bought stuff for grilled cheese and tomato soup and told you that you needed to make yourself an actual meal. When I got to your apartment, I told you I had some stuff for you and opened the back of my jeep, that's when an entire gallon of milk fell out of the jeep and splattered everywhere! All over me, all over the ground, and all over my jeep. I wanted to cry out of frustration, but instead, we both laughed.

I spent that entire day helping you get settled into your apartment until you had to go to work, and then I stayed over after you left for work and put away your coffee mugs, made sure your Keurig was put together and working, I checked on the animals, and made sure Sammy was doing okay. I cleaned your couch and looked around at what would hopefully be a fresh start for you. How could I have ever known that would be the last time I would see your apartment before it would become this dark place for the both of us? I didn't. You said, "1485 is perfect. It's almost my birthday numbers. It's like it was meant to be."  I hope this wasn't meant to be. I hope it was just some horrible thing that just happened, because trying to think of this entire thing being meant to be makes me sick to my stomach. So today, when I went out to get the table out of the jeep that we used for your graveside birthday celebration, I saw what was left of a splatter mark from the milk that was meant for you. Instead of laughing about it today, I cried.

I was not thrilled about spending a Saturday moving heavy objects when I really wanted to be at home resting from my crazy week of clinical and parenting. But now, I'm so glad I got to spend that entire day with you. We talked, we laughed, and we just got to be together. I wouldn't trade it for the world. I wouldn't trade you for the world. Even with the pain that I'm in now. And believe me, it's a massive amount of pain. I'm still trying to keep moving forward, for you, for these girls, for the hope that I will some day be able to stand in front of the person who did this to you, and ask them the one question that haunts me every single second of every day, "Why?"

I hope you enjoyed your birthday celebration, I barely survived it. I miss you so freaking bad.

Love always,

Sis