Happy Father's Day, Petey! I love you! 

Indian Princesses with Daddy... 

Just a little too late...

Earlier this evening, I took a peek at my blog. More specifically, I looked at the hit counter. I was actually on the phone with my mom at that moment, so the significance was instantly recognized by more than just myself. The counter read 6762. Not that it really means anything at all, but it was kind cool... the last four digits of Laurie's cell phone number. I remember saying to my mom "I should check again before I go to bed, perhaps I can see when it hits 6784, Laurie's exact birthdate." I figured that I would post tonight, and people just might take a look. But when I looked again, a few hours later, it said 6832. In the space of a Cubs game, 60 people stopped thier lives to see what I might be thinking. 60 people doing their daily thing paused a moment to care about MY LIFE. Weird...

Anyhow, I feel like everything I want to write has been written already. The things that are flooding my mind lately are the same things I posted on my bigbigbigbigbig posting. Basically, I am still having a desperately hard time adjusting to the fact that this is life now, no matter how strange and impossible it feels. Not that I am obsessed with my sister's death (but if I were, is that something to be ashamed of and stuff inside and fake to the world like I am moving along faster than I really am?) but I still find the sensation of...well, the sensationalism just overwhelmingly huge. Its like I am looking at the world through some funny glasses, thinking how astonishing this all really is, and then it hits me again. These are not fun-house mirrors, Katie...these are your eyes, this is your life, and it is YOUR sister that killed herself. It is YOU that is standing here up to your eyeballs in disbelief...this is your bed, lie in it, like it or not. It is a mind-blowing sensation, that, to be perfectly honest, I don't think most people could understand, at least not a lot of the people I know. I am surrounded by people that love me, and that I love deeply, but I often get the feeling (and it isn't a bad thing at all, not even a little) that I am alone. That every single person around me does not and cannot imagine what this feels like. Sympathy and empathy, sure, those things I am flooded with, but the actual imagination of it. I have the distinct feeling that while so many people around me are pouring love and prayer and peace into my life, there is very much a hovering sensation within them that simply says, with aloof security, "This could never happen to me. Katie lost a sister to suicide, but that would not, could not ever happen to my sibling. My brother/sister would never do that." It isn't so much a conscious thought, it is simply that it has never crossed their minds that it could happen. I'm probably not making any sense, but I am trying. Basically, in a nutshell...I don't know why Laurie killed herself, I don't know why anyone does, really, but what I do know, is that there are people living under the same roof as you right now that are contemplating it, too. The girl you shared a bedroom with 20 years ago, the boy you played GI Joes with for thousands of hours with as a child, the woman who breastfed you, the man who coached your little league, your best friend in high school...that person is thinking about it right now. It is real, and it could happen. Not to be a jerk, but to some of you, it WILL happen. Please, please, please, from the absolute bottom of this very broken heart, check up on that heart. If something seems wrong, get out of your comfort zone and get in there to do what it takes. If nothing seems out of place at all...well get in there anyways, and make sure you know what's going on. I just have this desperate feeling that I want to beg everyone around me to be aware. That doesn't mean you need to assume the worst, or the inevitable, or that it is a hopeless cause. Not so at all. Rather, it is the chance to take the pain of losing my sister, and turn it into the chance you might have to save your sister...literally.

Katie and Laurie...June 9th, 1984 

Do you know what I was doing at this exact moment 21 years ago? Believe it or not, I do. I was 5-years-old, and my big brother Greg decided to be super cool, and take his little sister camping. Given, we only went as far as the driveway, but he was so great, he set up our pop-up trailer for us, and we had a good old fashioned camp-out. He stayed with me, and when I couldn't sleep alone, he joined me in the back bed, so I wouldn't be scared. But as great as the sleeping outside with my cool brother thing was, the best part of the whole event actually happened in the morning. Bright and early, we were woken up by my dad, and I still remember his exact words..."You have a new baby sister!" I imagine that Greg probably knew that Dad had come over in the middle of the night to get Mom, and bring her to the hospital, but I was fast asleep, completely unaware that while I dozed, I was about to get the ultimate dream of every five-year-old little girl...a baby sister of her very own! Little La...born on June 7, 1984, exactly three months before my 6th birthday, weighing exactly what I had weighed at birth (7 lb 13 oz, if I recall...Mom?) later that evening, we got to go to visit, and honestly, I don't remember anything about Laurie, but I can still see my Mom when I first walked in, wearing her lavender nightgown, looking beautiful.
The following day, we picked up Mom and Laur at the hospital, and went straight to the Heick's. Just recently I pulled out a photo from that day, a picture of me holding Laurie for the very first time, grinning ear to ear.
So, now here it is, a mere 30 minutes away from the time she would joyously scream to the world that she was a year older. So would end the week long countdown of phone calls..."seven days until my birthday...six days until my birthday...five days, etc." In a half-hour, she'd be 21, and we'd have quite a day, with her friends and family gathered round to celebrate. We had planned to get all her friends together to hit Wrigleyville, for her first visit to the depths of the Cubbie Bear, her first legal Old Style, her first chance to have some bouncer squint at her ID, and smile when he noticed the date...but it is just not going to be.

Instead, we'll journey to the Lake tomorrow, to bring flowers. We'll take time out of our day to buy a cup of coffee and a sandwich for someone who might need it. We'll stop to thank someone we don't really know for their hard work at the daily grind. We'll sing happy birthday really loud in our cars, and I'll sit in the bleachers, I'll breathe in Wrigley, and I'll thank Laurie for 7,574 days of the best gift a big sister could ask for...Happy Birthday, Laur.

Another day, another stupid reason...

Damn it, this day was going so well! I was doing good, feeling alright with the world, starting to see beyond the junk. We spent the day together as a family, hanging out at home, going to the ball field to play catch and run around like 1-4-5 year olds do, bbq out on the deck, bath and bedtime, Tommy and I watching the Cubs squash the silly hopes of the Dodgers...and then tears from an upstairs bedroom. Maya was crying, a bad dream. I couldn't really understand what she was talking about, just "afraid" and "Munch" and "dead." She's sleeping again, and she's just fine, but I am sitting here just generally pissed off that this is the way it has to be. This is the stuff I have to explain to my kids now. Last week, Denver made a list of the people that he knows..."a checkmark by the ones that are alive, and an X by the ones that are dead." The week before, he asked me how his aunt died, and following the recommendations of the professionals, I had the privledge of explaining suicide to a five year old! How f-ing stupid does this have to get?!?! Maya tells me that she just wants to go to heaven now, and even at four years old, I think she can see right through the awkward explanations I give about why she still should be here. I'm just on the edge of my seat waiting for the day she asks me why Aunt Laurie gets to be there now, even though it completely contradicts my explanation of "God's timing." I know it could be worse, and there are a lot harder things to have to talk to kids about, but right now, I am mad. I don't want to talk to my kids about this crap. If I can't really understand it myself, how on earth can He expect me to give a decent answer to them?
I'm mad at her. This might not be a popular thing to announce, but on behalf of my kids, today I am mad at her. They have been completely screwed out of a relationship with an aunt who loved them. The last day we saw Laurie, she told Denver she wanted to have a "Denver and Munch" day, just the two of them to do something fun. The first time Denver cried over her was when he and I were driving in the car a few days after her death, when he realized that such a day would never happen. On the same note, Maya cried when she looked at my wedding album, and knew that even though Munch had asked her to be a flower girl, that would not ever happen. I can hear her little voice now..."Munch and Scott can't get married anymore, can they?" And Isaiah, he'll never, ever know her. She was there the moment he was born, her voice was the first he heard in this world, but he will never know her. Never.

And so I am mad at her. What did they do to deserve this? What did I do to deserve this? What did we all do to deserve this? Laur, I may have hurt in your lifetime, we all may have hurt you...so what do you want, a medal? Great, you win. You've trumped us all...happy now?

If this sounds bitter and harsh, well bummer. I'm not going to stop the process of getting through this now. I can say it out loud, and get it all out there, or I can stuff it inside, hide it away, bury it for as long as I can, and then...well, I think we have all seen how well that works out, haven't we?

By the way, Munch...we got bleacher tickets for June 7th, your birthday, just like last year when you went with Drew. I know you wanted to skip the game, and just go to Wrigleyville, your first time as a 21-year-old, but I decided to go, and sit, and cheer in your honor. It's your birthday, and I know how much you love celebrating it. We'll miss you here, and we'll do our best to pay tribute to you on your special day. Lord knows that if birthdays still matter in heaven, you'll be partying like a dork! I love you, you know...