No words

There are no words.

 “I miss you,” sounds stupid and empty compared to the devastating loss that I feel.  I feel like a little dog looking for his master around every corner.  I log onto Facebook, I visit your page. It’s like I’m looking for you even though I know you’re not there.  Yet Facebook isn’t Facebook without you. Every status I post, every picture I tag, every event I create, every cause I support, I push down the sadness that you won’t be liking, resharing them or gleefully correcting my spelling and grammar errors.

 And actually my world isn’t my world without you.  Every funny Chris and Shivaun occurrence, every good grade I get, every motivating story I hear, every movie I see, every interaction I have with Annie and Denise I want to tell you about. “Isn’t amazing how everything has come together, when things seemed so hopeless not so long ago.” We often had this discussion in the last six months.  It is amazing how in spite of the destructive sickness you had, you were able to have so much genuine gratitude, and ‘bring it’ every day.

When I was driving today I realized in retrospect that when my mom died you quietly slipped into her role of providing unconditional love and that ‘Hey Shivaun you’re the greatest’ sentiment.  I sometimes wonder if this cloak was slipped on you when you just happened to call moments after they told me in the hospital that things had gone horribly wrong during her operation. I still see myself grabbing for the phone as it rang and the screen displayed “KATHY RAB.” Oh Thank God, I thought.  “Pray, pray, pray” I begged you.  I know you did, and while she did not make it, I believe your prayers are what carried me through the next several hours and probably several months.  I can still see you at McLaughlin’s Funeral home, having taken the bus up from Pittston, to come to the funeral service. How grateful I was to have you there. I hope I told you that.

 Denise came across your notebook where you had written down “McLaughlin’s” and the address. Little did any of know that we would be ushering you off from the same spot six short years later. The memorial service we had for you at McLaughlin’s was beautiful but horrible because I didn’t want it to be happening.  I feel God was mixed up on Friday May 10.  I know you had done everything you needed to do, but I don’t think you had lived everything you wanted to live.

 I know you wanted to be there for Annie’s and Amanda’s engagement, I know you wanted to help Denise get ready for her new adventures in Virginia.  I know you wanted more slumber parties with your sisters. I know you wanted to continue to encourage your dad in his own cancer battle. I know you wanted to go to lunch with me after radiation that day. I know there were a lot of photos and statuses you wanted to like (just enough so Facebook wouldn’t discipline you again). I know you wanted to give me the opportunity to beat you at Scrabble. Oh how close I came recently. I think this last game might have been the one. I will never forget you starting off one game with F**kers.  I did not know that was a word in Scrabble but I guess it is because you got 85 points with it.

I know I’m not the only one visiting Facebook looking for you, just today, there were at least 3 Facebook conversations about you. I ‘liked’ them all.  You would be embarrassed, not thinking you deserve the attention.

 Our last interaction was Scrabble after midnight on May 10.

 Since then I have

No words.