September 5

I can hardly believe the summer is nearly gone. And in just a few weeks more it will be my birthday. How can I be turning 50? I just turned 40! There’s never enough time. Ever since Sissy died I realize how time just keeps disappearing. I know I’m supposed to cherish it more and treat it like it’s a precious commodity. And it is. But I can’t just suddenly change. I still love her. I miss her so much. Ever since she’s been gone I just feel like a piece of me has been ripped away. It’s left this gaping hole inside me. Right inside my chest. Nothing fills it. It’s just empty …like a void. A vacuum! I’m supposed to go see my therapist tomorrow. It’s just going to be the same as always. There’s a piece of me I’m missing that I can’t get back. No matter what I do or who I talk to about it or how much I pray or try to sleep it away or numb the pain. It’s like I just can’t feel with that part of myself anymore. Kate and Andrew said they want to take me out this weekend. I appreciate them. Of course. But I don’t think I’ll go. I’ll just make up another excuse.

September 29

I guess I need to check in with myself. My birthday passed and I nearly forgot it. I spoke to Mom. She cried on the phone when I said I didn’t want to see anyone. I’ve been losing my sense of what I really need. I just keep pretending I don’t need people. That I don’t want to talk to anyone anymore or see them. But I don’t want anyone but her. I just want to stay home, swaddled up in my own sorrow. I went to the cemetery yesterday. I laid down on the ground next to her. I cried into the soil. I imagined my tears trickling down, somehow touching her. I tried to feel for her down there, somewhere. I pictured her like an angel, spreading her wings, and wrapping them around me, warming me. The soft golden glow of her ethereal heart shining into me. I must’ve passed out from grief. When I woke up, I know the grass was wet beneath my hands and face, but I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel anything. Not cold or warm. Just a dead, numbing feeling. Maybe I really was feeling her.

October 11

It’s been four months now. I don’t think I’m getting any better. All I do is daydream about Sissy. I sit in my recliner not eating, not drinking. I don’t even watch TV anymore. If I even look at social media, I just break down. Andrew sent me a message the other day, hoping he and Kate could come over and visit for a while. Kate said she would bring some food over. Mom keeps calling me and I don’t answer. It’s like I know they are all there waiting for me to come out of this cocoon. But I can’t get out. And I’m not transforming inside this prolonged, shrouded wake. I’m dying inside these four walls. I feel myself slipping away. A part of me is already dead. Already missing. Gone away, like all my feelings seem to have disappeared.

November 1

I can’t believe I missed her favorite holiday. Halloween has come and gone. The first one without her in so many years. And today is the day of the dead. What hallowed sense of life do I have anymore? I remember carving pumpkins together last year. The feel of those pumpkin guts — how we used to sling them at each other and laugh. I can’t remember what she felt like. I almost can’t remember her laugh. This empty place in my bed each night keeps me awake. I don’t know if it’s dawn or dust anymore. When I touch her clothes in the closet, I wish I could feel her there inside of them. I wish I could feel the static charge in the room. I wish I could even feel anything but this sorrow. Why was she taken from me? Now I can’t feel anything.

December 13

Today was Sissy’s birthday. She would’ve been 49. I tried to fold some of her clothes and put them in bags to give to Kate for donation. I couldn’t do it. Not because I couldn’t try. My heart is so broken and my spirit feels so empty. I couldn’t fold the clothes. I couldn’t lift the bag. I couldn’t feel either one. All I could feel was my heart folding in on itself, twisting and writhing inside my chest. I haven’t brushed my teeth in weeks. But I tried to because I knew Kate or Mom would be dropping by soon. But when I went to pick up the brush, it was like there was nothing there. The same with the cup. And the toothpaste. And the faucet handle. All just seemed like they were lost. I reached for them, but there was nothing there. No door knob or window shade. No kitchen counter or pillows. No remote, no plate, no napkin. Nothing. I can see what’s in front of me. I can hear the phone ring or the door knock. I can hear my breath. But I can’t feel anything anymore. Everything I touch is like a mirage. An illusion of feeling where there was once a senseof what I could hold. Anything tangible and tactile is now like air and dust in my hands. Like a vapor. I’m thinking Mom better check me in somewhere. Before I get too much more out of touch.