Hey, does anyone know whose blog this is?

Holy crap...It's MINE! I watch the "hit counter" at the bottom every so often, since Drew put it there for me a few weeks ago. Over 4000 hits, so it isn't a big surprise to me that y'all are out there, sneaking a peek into my brain. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't put it all up here if I didn't want anyone to see it, but still, the point remains, and apparently, must be clarified: THIS IS MY BLOG. This is a place for me to express my feelings, get my stuff out of my head and into words. I very much appreciate and it is helping me so very much to see all the encouragement that so many of you offer in your comments, but the truth of the matter is that even if no one in the whole world ever read this stuff, it wouldn't matter. What matters is that I have a safe (or thought I did, anyways) place, a place that is absolutely mine, for nobody else in the whole world. At the risk of being called a "know it all" like my brilliant, beautiful sister-in-law Cheryl (though I'd be in excellent company for sure!) I looked up the definition of pity in Webster's, and it reads "sympathetic sorrow for one suffering, distressed, or unhappy." If I have unduly caused any of you to feel that for me, please know, that is not my intention. My intention is simply to express the brokenness I feel in losing my little sister, and the journey of grieving her, and living my own life...in my own way. I am not trying to elicit anyone's pity, I am simply putting my own words out there, to get them out of my head.

On the other hand, if you are somehow offended by what I am feeling, I'd really like you to know that my goal is not to inflame, but to express. So if something I write offends you, I am probably sorry (unless of course you are an a-hole, in which case I couldn't care less.)

With that out of the way, I'd like to ponder a moment one of the things I have inherited from my mother. Like her, I hate bullies. The thing about a bully that is so disturbing is that they get joy from someone else's misery. They enjoy hurting people, and get great satisfaction from taking someone who is already weakened and broken, and kicking them further down. Bullies are proud of themselves when they are able to inflict more pain on someone who is already suffering. Bullies, like those two "family" members at my sister's wake, and like the "anonymous" commenter on the post I wrote about my dad, and the "anonymous" commenter on my mom's blog about Laurie's stuff, those people are proud of themselves that they have shown no compassion. They are pleased with themselves for having brought even more pain to a grieving family. Bullies are cruel.

But there is one thing that has given me hope today, even when I cried my eyes out. It occurred to me that while I was so sad that people were willing to stoop so low, they were not willing to reveal their identity. What that said to me was that even they knew they were doing wrong, and they were too ashamed to even sign their own name to it. It gave me enough hope to stop, and just turn it over to God. I let Him take away the sting of those words, and asked Him to help me forgive, and help them to be gentle. And if this feeling comes back again tomorrow, well I'll do the same again. Until then, there are actual things to be dealt with, important things, real things. Things that matter...

I have good friends

I really do. Even as I am trudging along, frantically trying to figure out how to fix this giant mess we like to call Katie, I have good friends to back me.

• Sara, who still calls me even when I say I want to be left alone, because she is good at knowing when I don't really mean it, and who loves my kids as if they were her own.
• Dee, who gives so much of herself to me in so many ways, whether it is buying some nice clothes for my kids for Laurie's wake because she knew it hadn't even crossed my mind yet, or cheering me on when I am at the bottom of the pit.
• AnnMarie, who has known me since before we could read, who makes sure to take time to write me amazing words to keep me going, and keeps me laughing all the time.
• Sarah, who almost literally carried me through this past semester so I didn't fail out, and who grieved in the way she does, by cleaning my whole entire house, top to bottom, when we found out Laurie had died, and I couldn't bear to leave my Mom's house.
• Dawn, who makes herself available to me whenever I need her, night or day, despite being a busy mom with a full time job. There is no doubt in my mind that she would drop everything at any moment if I needed her. She is one of the funniest people I know, and perfectly balances her way of making me laugh with her ability to comfort my tender heart. (Plus, she is taking me to a Cubs game today!)
• Michelle, who has more than a full plate, yet she still keeps little old me on her mind. She is a master plate-spinner, and it fills me to know she considers me one of her most valuable plates.
• Kim, who is so consistent with making sure that I know how much I stay on her heart everyday. This woman is remarkable the way she manages to wear a thousand hats, from friend to mother to hot-shot professional, and looks beautiful in every one...It inspires me.
• Kristin W, who takes care of her ailing father every day, and still shows up with the most brilliant smile, she blows me away with her strength. She is so diligent with asking me how I am doing, and is so willing to be there when I need to talk, even at the most random times.
• Sue, who doesn't buy my "I'm doing great" fake smile for a minute, and goes out of her way to be there for me, whether is is helping me with fundraising for the walk, or inviting me and the kids over to her house to hang out poolside.
• "Sara Benny", who has the most tender heart and huge brain, and offers both to me all the time!

And there are so many more, from all parts of my life, who are so consistent in their prayers, and are perfectly clear in their intentions to absolutely raise me up. Elena, Dana, Jenny, Erin, Shawn, Jeff, Jason, Alex, Randi, Nick, Christian, Eve, Dan, JoAnne, Kristin D, Gina, Joe, Susana, Miki, Jackie, Stephanie, Drew, Molly, Mandy & Heidi (although you are technically family!) I'm sure I am forgetting more right now, but the cool part is that before I can even realize it, you'll be there doing something amazing to lift me up, and I'll be amazed that I forgot to put you on this list!

Thank you, my sludge-balers. I have this vision of myself at the bottom of a icky trench, with sludge and goop up to my ankles, and I'm trying not to sink further, and there are all of you around me, buckets in hand, working patiently, diligently, to bail me out, a bit at a time. It's a long and messy process, but you're there...thank you.

Big big big big big big big big big big....

I just can't get over how big this is. How absolutely, unbelievably, incredibly freaking big this is. It's as though I make it a single step cognitively, only to be thrown back a mile when it hits me yet again how big this is.

I went to school today. My sister is dead. I did the dishes. My sister took her life. I checked my email. My sister is dead. I changed some diapers. My sister took her life. I paid some bills. My sister is dead. I watched a TV show. My sister took her life. I spent another day doing who-the-fuck-cares while my sister is dead. This is just beyond big. I just can't get over how big this is.

I feel like I have been smacked upside the head with the reality stick, and it's left quite a mark. I'm keeping a lot of stuff down inside, mostly because I am afraid if I let it out, if I get too honest, it'll just be too scary too see.

It feels like a blanket. A big, scary blanket. I go through my day, doing all the junk that I have to do, whether it is jumping through hoops at school trying to prove that I am learning something even if it seems glaringly obvious that I have no idea what I am doing, or taking care of the homestead, making sure my children are clothed and fed and played with and smiling, all the while feeling like I am being smothered by a big giant I-don't-care blanket. I'm living with a filter on, an apathetic filter, so that even though I am surrounded by the real world, all I can come up with is "who cares?" Right now, it really is not me, that's for sure.

I know I have felt this way before, but right now I am unsure if this is regular old, run-of-the-mill grief, or if I really am in a depression. The tricky part is, you guessed it...I don't care.

I get really worried, like maybe I am going to lose my mind for real. See, there is the part of me that says "No, you're doing fine. You'd never go crazy. Sure, you might feel like everything is nuts right now, but if you were going to lose it, why would you still be doing the day-to-day? If you were going to go off the deep end, why would you still do your homework, take your vitamins, make pediatrician appointments, make plans? People don't just lose their mind one day..." Or do they? Laurie spent the last three days of her life studying for a test she didn't take. Laurie and I made plans for her 21st birthday next month. Laurie filed her taxes and was excited about a refund. Laurie signed up for a stupid 401K. The day she took her life, she told my Mom she'd see her later, she told my step-dad she'd pay back a loan on Friday, she told her fiance she was looking forward to hanging out that night.

So I am paranoid and apathetic. What fine company I make these days.

To be fair, while I can't say that I know for sure when the idea was fully realized in her head, I think I have reason to believe that she made that decision before she left the house in the morning. I think she may have made her choice sometime in the wee hours, which just complicates my thought even more. It makes me really, really mad at her, that she was able to look in my mother's eyes knowing her intentions. She said good-bye to my parents just as she did every day, never missing a beat. She pulled away from Starbuck's, with no more than a casual "see you later" to her fiance. How bold, and determined, and out of her mind...

It's just too big, and my brain much too small...

Mother's Day...no, really...

It was nice. A nice day. Time with my kids, and in-laws, dinner with my mom and stepdad and sibs at my husband's restaurant. Even some time alone. Denver and Maya made me really cute cards, and had a ball all morning wrapping up random stuff at my mom's house in kleenex to give me. It was good.

But I'll be honest, as nice as it was, there is still one bit of my heart that hurts big time on Mother's Day. It's that one lonely, achey corner reserved just for my first born. She will be 9 in just 8 days. Wow. Honestly, enough time has passed that I don't break so much anymore, pretty much just Mother's Day and May 17. This year, though, I thought it would be different. I thought maybe, just maybe, I'd get a card, either from her parents or maybe even from her. They wrote at Christmas, and that was great. After I sent them a letter telling them about Laurie, they even made a donation to the overnight. I just wish I'd have gotten a card this week...

On the other hand, I had a fantastic time at the "Mother's Day Spa" at Denver's kindergarten. He was great, he gave me a manicure, and a massage, and we made placemats. It was really, really great. We had a ton of fun. And Saturday was his first ever little league game, t-ball. It was hilarious! The kids did great, and he loved it! (The bummer, of course, being that he was assigned to the White Sox! They played the Cubs this week, and it really was a bit hard not to root for the opposing team!)

Go figure, I've got a kid playing in Little League...weird.

I have nothing inspirational, nothing crafted of fine words...just empty. Joyless. So far broken, I wonder how God will repair me, bring me back to life. I miss her so much, I am beyond words. I keep thinking I should find a way to express this feeling, this utter despair. I keep thinking that I need something beyond this face I am showing, the face that says I am doing okay. I keep thinking that I should describe to someone...anyone... the desperation inside, the panicky feeling that I can't control.

It isn't about God. In that aspect, I am good. He is good. I feel Him holding me close, I feel His presence. I hear Him calling me to draw closer and closer still. I pray, and I know beyond reason that I am not alone. I have faith bigger than what I can see, and I know where my rock is.

It is about me. It is about my human feelings, earthly despair. It is my utterly human hopelessness that is crushing me.

This week, at Grief Support at Willow, the pastor shared a list of questions that seemed to be common to many as they suffer a loss. Where is God? Why did He let this happen? What is God's plan? Etc, and then he gave us a moment to write in a question we might have that wasn't listed...
My question... What's the point?

What am I supposed to learn from my sister's death, and why do I have to be here for who-knows-how-many years to learn it? Is my life supposed to teach someone else a lesson, and if so, who? Why are we here? What is the point?

Anyone?