Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:
I know I said I wanted to explore the chronology of our story a bit more closely, but would you mind terribly if I devoted this letter to something a bit different?
Good. I didn’t think so.
Honestly, it’s times like these, back here in August 2010, that I wish you were here. My sister Janelle has been in the hospital since last week. And I hate it. I hate that since my father died, our lives have felt like a rollercoaster. Sometimes things are relatively smooth, and then, like on Splash Mountain, we unexpectedly find ourselves at that ledge, staring down, about to drop into the giant pool of water.
I hate being afraid. I hate being scared. I hate fearing I’m going to lose my family. These emotions just seem to come over me like a gigantic tidal wave, and if I’m supposedly so strong, why do I feel like they overpower me? Right now, it seems all I do is cry when these feelings wash over me. And as you’ll realize, Sweetpea, I’m not usually one to shed tears. But I’ve become a fountain of tears over the last few days. The thoughts creep in, spiral out of control and I just sit there. And sob. Gosh, I feel like such a child right now, so vulnerable and afraid. I’m even trying to fight back the tears as I type this. Thank goodness for those old-school Britney tunes, Sweetpea.
I already lost my father. I honestly don’t think I could take losing anyone else. Is it too much to ask for life to be calm and steady? It’s hard because I had that – for the first 21 years of my life. Despite my surgeries and countless hospitalizations, life was good. Life was pretty sweet, actually.
And now it’s not. It’s a bitter pill I don’t want to swallow, if that makes any sort of sense, Sweetpea.
I want to talk to you. I want to cry on your shoulder. I want to be able to get mad and punch a clown punching bag and not have you be scared or afraid of seeing that side of me. Do we even own a clown punching bag? If not, we must get one, OK, Sweetpea?
And thinking about where we are when you’re reading this? I’m so afraid of how things will be with my sister then. Will she still be suffering? Will our lives still be that rollercoaster? Will those waves still be crashing into me? Or will I be able to say, “Waves, I’m not going to let you bully me any more. It’s time I stood up to you. Because I can. And I’m going to.”
I suppose part of the reason I’m writing all this to you is because I don’t want to hide anything from you. I never want us to feel that we have secrets we have to harbor from one another. I’ll never hide anything from you. I promise.
So many questions. So many waves. So many things to think about. What do you think, Sweetpea? Any suggestions? Until we meet… xoxo
[Photos via We Heart It]