Tuesday, April 15, 2014

April 15, 2014 | April 15, 2013

This morning I was up at 12:17am. I was up because there was a red moon taking place and Sarah wanted to see it. I try to do what Sarah wants, when I can. And this seemed doable. It would be a good thing.

This morning I was up at 12:17am. I couldn't stop thinking about a year ago at this time. I was sleeping sound just 7 miles away from my best friend who was freshly home from a night with her family, celebrating her granddaughters birthday.

At 12:23am I was whispering to Sarah to wake up and come outside so she could see the Tetrad moon phenomenon.

At 12:23am I imagine Gina was headed up her stairs to go to sleep and have sweet dreams about a very fun day. Probably lingering a bit on the memory of Avi cuddling her just hours before.

At 12:37am Sarah was cold, shaking, excited, and on the front porch staring at the moon. GIDDY! PURE GIDDY about seeing something so special and "JUST WAIT TILL I TELL MR. KAHNY" was all she could say for the first little bit of time.

At 12:37am I was thinking about Gina. She had no idea, NONE OF US HAD ANY IDEA that she had a brain aneurysm that would rupture. It happened in an instant. Everything changed in an instant one year ago on this day, April 15th.

Sarah and I came in and out of the house to warm up and to let the moon do it's thing without our peering eyes. At first Sarah was content watching the event on the porch huddled next to me. But it wasn't long before she started gathering all the cameras to see if she could get a good shot of the spectacular-ness she was seeing. She grabbed her Dad's iPhone, her Hello Kitty camcorder, the point and shoot her sister gave her, my iPhone... she couldn't get any of them to really see more than a black sky. Eventually she said, "Mom, can we use the BIG camera" which is what she calls my Moomp Photography camera. Why not.

We both clicked pictures, she directed me on where to aim, how to keep the camera stable, etc. etc.

I enjoyed the moment, and I also mourned the moment that took place a year ago. My tummy was in knots jumping from emotion to emotion.

Sarah and I came back in the house, reviewed our work, printed a copy of the fuzzy red moon for her class and eventually made it back to bed.  She climbed in her bunk and stayed there for about 11 minutes. But then she came into my room and asked to crawl in with Dad and I. I said yes. I wanted to hold her tight. I needed to hold her tight. I wanted to hold everyone I know and love tight. 

I miss Gina beyond words. She was so important to me and was my constant for nearly 20 years! She was my wing-woman, my therapist, my sister, my mom, my best friend, my comic relief, my personal chef, my music and sewing mentor, Gina was the angel on my shoulder. I have to believe that Gina IS STILL THE ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER. 

While I hold Sarah tight, I prepare myself for the rough day ahead. This is that year marker. When you lose someone, that year marker is tough. You try to ignore it, try to downplay any significance, but it is impossible.

With each tick of the clock, you remember what was happening a year ago at this time. It is inescapable, sad, painful, and turns your tummy into a butterfly mess of nothing good.

It is now 7:52am and at this time a year ago I was on my way to Sacramento's UC Davis where I would say goodbye to Gina. She was already gone, but I had to see her. I had to see what I had been told and I had to hold her. I had to be there for her like she was for me for our entire friendship.

I cherish that I got to whisper to her that I love her, that I got to stroke her cheek, feel her soft brown skin, look at her pretty nails and tell her that I love her and will love her forever. I cried a year ago and I have great certainty there will be tears throughout my day today.  In the quiet moments when nobody's eyes are peering on me, when I allow myself to take that full breath in and I exhale all the way - I will cry. But I am going to hold that off for as long as I can, because I think when I do let it all out... it's gonna be a years worth of tears.




1 comment:

Whimsy said...

I hear her laugh, I remember her warmth and hospitality, the genuine person she is. Hugs and love for you.