The Gatorade (repost with a new addition)

Today marks the two year anniversary. My friends and Kristin’s friends are amazing support. I thank you. I am posting this for the second as I did for the first. A reminder to all who grieve that there are no time limits and there are no rules. My brother and I have talked out another post, but I can’t finish it tonight. It will be a tell all (or some) (or a very little) about our family. Are you on the edge of your seats. In honor of Kristin you can certainly donate to pancan. I will, but I will also try to mellow out a bit and be way less judgmental. I didn’t get that gene. I miss the shit out of my big sister. Be Strong

 On the one year anniversary  (a strange name for such a crappy date) my sister’s Pancreatic Cancer diagnosis I am posting The Gatorade which was originally written on March 19th, 2013.  Not a minute goes by that I don’t miss my big sister.  <p>It is time to commit to my writing again.  I think my life is all about recommitting on so many levels and mostly everyday.  I refuse to feel guilty for the time I needed to let the ideas tumble around without catching any (except very private ones in a very private journal) on paper.  I did NOT want another snow day and yet, I told myself last night that if it happened, I needed to recommit today.  And so it goes.  As I thought about what message this post should hold, I realized that I did not need to try to so hard.  That the experience I needed to write was at the tip of my brain waiting to be realized on paper and that people would take from it what they needed. <br /> <br /> And so it begins on a random, relaxed Saturday at Wegmans.  Recently, I have been attending a bereavement group and thanks to the connections and advice of these souls who are also experiencing grief, I am better able to sleep through the night in the last two weeks without reliving every minute of my sisters last days of life.  This extra sleep means I am happier and better able to face the day with happy and positive thoughts.  But, per usual (and I am sure my faithful readers miss it) I digress.  Back to Wegmans.  Eric and I had a wonderful Friday night at home with steaks, wine and books and now we were perusing the Wegman’s aisles with no cares in the world as Krista was at a friend’s house.  I have to admit to you right now that grocery shopping with Eric is one of my favorite things.  It is stress free and fun. <br /> <br /> So, there I am enjoying it all and Eric reminds me we have a 5k on Sunday and I probably want some gatorade.  It happens that we are right at the tip of that aisle and so I head down and turn toward the gatorade and just stare.  Without any warning at all, my face turns red, a bump forms in my throat and all I see in front of me is my sister telling me that purple gatorade is the best drink.  The night before she died as Eric and I were leaving she asked if I could get her a purple gatorade. My brother  Michael stayed with her while we went to the downstairs cafeteria.  However, all we could find was blue.  Michael texted me to “hurry up with the gatorade.”  I grabbed the blue and booked it upstairs.  When we arrived Michael said, “Oh, she decided she doesn’t want it anymore,” and Kristin turned to him with the “Kristin Look” and said, “That is not true.”  We all laughed and I admitted that there was no purple and I had brought blue.  She of course let me off the hook and drank down the blue.  As we were leaving she seemed to become more and more awake which was perfect because her husband Joe and daughters showed up.  I remember looking back and seeing my beautiful sister so happy to see her girls, and that gatorade sitting right there by her side on the tray reminding me that she was still very much alive.   <br /> <br /> Back at Wegmans, I held back the tears as best I could.  I could not speak for fear my voice would dissolve into salt water.  As soon as we got to the car I let it go and go and go.  Last night I shared this with my bereavement group and one of the women there said that she has heard them called “griefbursts.”  It is the perfect name as it came out of the blue and hit me so hard I did not have any defense ready.   But slowly I am learning to take it all as it comes.  There is no right and wrong in missing someone.  You just do.  And you miss them because they were wonderful.  And you hope that a little piece of wonderful has stayed behind to shine with and through you.  And when you can’t buy the gatorade because it just feels too hard, you wait until the next day.  And you run the race and you drink the gatorade and you keep moving forward.  Be Strong.