Sun's Come Up

So, on Tues. I called my dad to let him know how my visit with my mom was going.  He told me he got a letter from IUP saying I hadn’t actually graduated, I was missing 13 credits, blah blah blah.  He was flipping out, not telling anyone that he was flipping out and had been keeping it to himself since the previous Fri.  I immediately started crying all night and behaved responsibly by not getting wasted (although I was sorely tempted), only eating an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s.  I called IUP the next day and got it all fixed (they hadn’t added the credits I had from taking college courses in high school).  I came home two days ago and talked to my dad; he said he hadn’t felt pain like that since he got sober 40 years ago.  Even though it wasn’t my fault, I feel awful.  

Also, I went to Jackie’s art gallery thing with the rest of the design majors and sat on a piece of artwork.  It looked like a velvet beanbag, I swear.  

The valedictorian of my high school, Susan, got married a few days ago.  She was so beautiful.  It was the first wedding I went to that my parents weren’t invited to.  I feel like a grown-up now.  One thing I love about my high school friends is that whenever I see them, we are immediately on the same page again.  Of course, if I saw most of the people I went to high school with I would turn around and run the other way- fast.  But those few friends that pass the run-away-and-hide test really help me remember the good times from high school.  I hadn’t seen Susan in over 3 years, but the fact that I was one of the 5 or so friends from high school and middle school meant so much to me. 

Today, I went to Columbus with my mom and her fiancee to have brunch with my half-sister, her husband and their three kids.  I met their youngest today, their first girl who is a few months old.  She was pretty sweet.  And had a bad-ass vice grip on my finger.  I had fun playing with her two sons as well.  I’ve found that I’m GREAT with kids…for the first hour or so.  Then I need a nap.  SO, if anyone ever needs an one-hour-at-a-time babysitter…I’m the girl.  Also, we ate at Salvi’s.  They had twenty feet of cheesecake at BRUNCH.  Like, 15 different kinds..and pasta and pot roast and waffles and…it was yummy. 

The stars have been so beautiful the past two nights.  It’s like being in a snowglobe…stars all around. 

My cat has, apparently, been sick for a while.  I saw him for the first time since spring break and he’s lost a lot of weight and hair.  We’re taking him to the vet tomorrow and I hope he’s ok. 

Well, I’m visiting my mom for a week and, like always, it’s weird being back in Springfield.  Susan’s wedding is this Friday and I bought a dress to wear and went swimming and whatnot.  On Monday, I volunteered at the largest men’s homeless shelter in the state.  Hands On Cleveland (the volunteer organization I’m with) served about 300 meals to homeless me.  I got home from volunteering and promptly threw up…I’m sure the two aren’t connected.  Saw Robin Hood with my dad, did some more working out…and stuff.

So, this isn’t too funny or uplifting, but here is a text I sent myself in the middle of the night so I wouldn’t forget.  

“laura, global reverberation” 

When I was growing up, my family was pretty spread out and small.  So, my mom and I would spend holidays with a local family.  When my mom and I were between houses we even stayed at the matriarch’s home for six weeks.  Sadly, Mildred died a few years ago, but the tradition of Thanksgiving and Easter dinners continued at her children’s home and my mom and I were always invited.  We even drove a half-hour back to Urbana after we moved every few weeks to spend a Saturday morning playing cards with them.  I loved playing with Mildred’s great-granddaughters, Laura and Audrey.  We would spend the hours before dinner exploring their family’s greenhouses and ghost hunting in the old barns.  

After I started college, I wasn’t able to make the Saturday morning card games and only was able to go to Thanksgiving or Easter on a rare occasion.  I cried when I heard Gary (Laura and Audrey’s grandfather) had a stroke and would ask my mom how the family was doing.  They were my family too.  

Laura was close to the end of her first year of high school and Audrey was finishing her senior year when I came home to visit my mom two years ago.  I ran into Laura at Kohl’s shopping with her family.  She was really athletic and had just been to a track meet and was getting ready for a horse show.  She had always been tiny as a kids, looking more like she was 5 years old than 10, but she finally looked her age and she was bursting with stories and questions.

I went back to my dad’s a few days later and woke up to four missed messages from my mom.  

“Kelly, I need you to call me back right away.  Something terrible happened and I need to talk to you.  It’s really important.  I love you so much Kelly.  Call me.”

“Kelly, you need to call me right now.  I have to talk to you.  I love you.  Call me.”

“Kelly, this is the third time I’ve called you.  You need to call me back. “

“Kelly, call me.”

Laura had shot herself.  That little blonde 9th grader I grew up with had committed suicide.  That was two years ago today.  

I went to her funeral.  They held it at her school and the auditorium was packed. It was a celebration of her life.  I sat with her family, they said they were my family too.  Her teammates, coaches, and family all talked about how she was all laughter, light and grace. It was beautiful.  After we followed her coffin (taken by a horse-drawn carriage) to the graveyard, we all signed her coffin. They buried her under a huge oak tree that overlooked a wide, open field.  

We went to a banquet hall, and had a feast for her.  Her dad held me close and said that they had decided to throw her a wedding feast, since she was now married to God.  They said she was home.  There were so many flowers, every table had a different bouquet.  

Now, after every card game, my mom and the family takes a walk around Laura’s grave.  She has a makeshift monument around her tear-shaped grave.  There are binders with notes to her, benches, flowers, pictures and usually one or two friends talking to her.  She has a facebook group where her friends and family write on her wall telling her about their day.  Her dad leaves a note every week or so telling her that he misses her and can’t wait to see her again.  A few weeks ago, her mom gave my mom a scrapbook for me that she had made of all the notes and pictures Laura had lying around her room.  Notes to God, asking for help or thanking him. Doodles, notes in her Bible.  Her mom wrote me a beautiful note on the back, just letting me know she thought of me a lot.  

So last night, two years to the day she died, I tried to feel her.  I thought there should be some kind of echo on her anniversary.  The world should feel empty, or a little more…shallow….something.  All these people were thinking of her right now. Hundreds of people were crying and remembering her.  Why couldn’t I feel it?  

I wanted to remind myself to write something about her today, so I wrote myself a sleepy text.  I thought it was important last night that I let the world (or let’s be serious- myself in five years when I read this blog again) know I’m mad at the world.  I wanted to feel connected to all the people that were missing her last night.  I wanted to feel an echo of how she felt two years ago.  I begged the world to send back a heartbeat that matched mine.  

It didn’t.