We were the closest family possible. Our world was turned upside down on 05/03/09 when my best friend, the person I love most next only to our children, my sister Trina was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer. Her body gave out on her on 01/09/10 but she will ALWAYS be a part of our daily life and will continue to be in my posts. I started my blog to chronicle our daughter's international adoption from Guatemala and have continued to use it as a journal.

What you will find is my family trying to adapt to our new lives that were handed to us.



Sunday, March 17, 2013

Friday

Friday was 38 months since we buried my sister.

Luckily I don't remember 98% of it even though I gave one of the three eulogy's.

I don't want to remember.

Anything.

I don't want to remember how she used to answer the phone.

I don't want to remember how she used to walk in the front door as if she were walking into her own home.

I don't want to remember how this WAS her home.

I won't want to remember how she napped on my loveseat, especially after she got sick and was going through chemo.

I don't want to remember how our moods were dictated by her tumor marker numbers.

I don't want to remember going on adventures with her.

I don't want to remember how much fun we had together.

I don't want to remember the five of us crammed in my car like sardines because if someone had to run errands we all ran errands....together.

I don't want to remember how we used to go out to lunch almost every day.

I don't want to remember as soon as the weather became nice we would start hanging out on the back deck with her at the helm of the grill.

I don't want to remember how she would sniff and then turn up her nose at anyone else's cooking except her own.

I don't want to remember the pure joy on her face every time she would pop open a new beer.

I don't want to remember knowing exactly what she was thinking just by looking in her eyes.

I don't want to remember how she would call me first thing in the morning and we would decide what to do with the day.

I don't want to remember seeing her car pull up in driveway unexpectedly and thinking "yay! The fun is here!"

I don't want to remember how she knew what I needed before I could verbalize it.

I don't want to remember what an amazing mom she was to Asa.

I don't want to remember all the parenting wisdom she gave to me.

I don't want to remember the good times.

I don't want to remember the bad times.

I don't want to remember anything.

All I can do is remember.