Second Year

I’ve come to realize so much more about myself since Staci’s passing. Reasons why change tends to frighten me, why losing friendships, not being in touch with those who received pieces of my heart breaks me down a little each time. We were so similar in these things. She’s taught me more in her death than I thought possible. I wish I could thank her and give her the hugs she always seemed to be annoyed with. I always hugged a little longer than she was comfortable with. I realize now that she became a little more bitter because for four years prior to her passing, I was not able to hug her. I couldn’t see her deteriorating. I couldn’t cope with the fact that I couldn’t save her the ways in which she saved me. Though it was not my job, my heart always struggled with this. Still does at times. This is the second Christmas I won’t hear her call at 5:30/6AM before the kids woke up to their presents under the tree. Somehow, it seems more difficult this year than it was last year. I can tell you that I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I am older and even more sentimental than I used to be, but that wouldn’t be honest of me. I miss her and the more time that passes, the grief gets thicker and more real. It gets tougher to move through life because the thought of her just always being there is now a distant memory. I try hard to move forward and do things I know would have been joyous for her to hear and would have made her proud. She told me once that my dad was proud of me. She would always do her best to make up for some of the things I missed out on and try to make me laugh. I think it made her forget how her struggles were taking over and making it more difficult for her to cope with everyday life. She always hid hard truths from me. She always saw me as that little girl she had to protect. She was parentified in many ways she should not have been when we were growing up. So, she continued to live her life that way. Even when we didn't need it. I feel like she thrived in the years she felt she was giving to me and my brothers. Once we began to have our own families, she became so lost. Again, this is what happens in life. It consumed her though. I know it did. I wish she would have had the discussions she needed to have with me instead of trying to protect me. The concept of time is bullshit. Fact is, we don’t know how much time we will ever have. We can’t predict it and we can’t really make up for lost time and words left unspoken. That’s not negative, it’s just truth. We make pacts and say we will keep in touch with those we see at funerals, but the world keeps turning in an unfair advantage of no one else outside of your circle gives a shit. The birds continue to sing their songs of grace. The flowers and trees continue to do their thing and bloom without fail. People laugh, love, and continue with their lives while those with lost loved ones just watch in a time warp wishing things, words, and stories ended in ways we only see in movies. With the right words spoken, miracle cures for illnesses being free and life stopping to cry alongside you. Staci taught me that I can hold my children tighter, laugh with them more, forget social norms and what other people think I should be doing as a parent, a wife, a therapist. She taught me to never take the laughter we share with others for granted. My medical health is important to tend to because putting it off too long can make the outcome drastically negative and dramatic. Making sure I am doing this will make time last a little bit longer with my loved ones. I’m working on it, sissy. I promise. So, what’s the most important thing Saci has taught me in her passing and time in spirit? That she’s still here. I feel her in the moments I need to think on my toes, in the times I cry because I feel so inadequate, I feel her hand on my shoulder. I hear her voice, “Pap, you’re ok. Sissy’s here. Fuck these bitches, we're Dwyers with Fairchild blood. Get the fuck up and let's do this.” I see her in everything beautiful, messy, funny, imperfect and perfect. She is still here. And as long as I breathe, she will always be here. But man, I’m missing her extra this Christmas.