Still Mourning

When my niece died Saturday before last, I felt gut-punched. Initially, on hearing the news from my brother, I felt dizzy and nauseous and I think I cried. I remember feeling as if I was hearing words that did not make sense. 

"This is bad news. This is sit-down news."

I'd expected it to be bad news. No one - not even family shows up unexpectedly at 3:30 in the morning with anything but bad news. And in a way, I'd been expecting something to happen. I hadn't been able to sleep and had been sitting up all night, feeling restless and waiting - for something. You know that feeling? So when my brother and my sister-in-law walked into the apartment (my SIL was carrying pastries from Hyvee with a couple of disposable plates resting on the lid), I knew I would hear something not-good.

"Gabby passed."

What? I saw my brother's mouth moving and I heard the words but it all felt surreal. For a minute, I was thinking that I could not have heard Gabby's name before the word "passed" and I tried to think of what "passed" could mean.

I think that I repeated it in my head ("Gabby passed") trying to do what one of my other nieces later said: "Make it make sense". And I couldn't.

And I think I cried - maybe wailed, maybe whimpered - and then I had to stop and try to process whether or not I was awake or asleep. Dreaming a nightmare or having some kind of auditory hallucination.

"Gabby passed".

Still today, I keep hearing those words in my brother's voice. I keep trying to "make it make sense". And I just can't. Every time I close my eyes, I see Gabby. Laughing Gabby, loud Gabby, mad, happy, sad, hurt Gabby. I see her as she looked during one of the few FaceTime (?) chats we had. I see her walking across the stage at her high school graduation (with me and her mother and marveling and laughing as she strutted up to get her diploma in super high-heeled shoes). I see her looking serious and mischievous and playful. I can even remember how she looked the day she and her twin brother were born, sleeping in the little NICU incubators next to each other.

Her brother seems to be handling this better than I am. Or he is doing what I am doing and pretending to be handling it because if he lets go even a little bit he will not be able to pull himself back together. 

Gabby.

I love everyone in my family - even the ones I don't like a whole lot - but Gabby was special. Gabby was the one I have been closest to since her mother (my sister) died. When My sister died, I had my best friend and Gabby. When my best friend died, I had Gabby. And now Gabby is gone. I, the biggest loner/hermit ever, feel so alone without Gabby in this world.

Gabby is the one who I gossiped with. I wouldn't know half of what goes on in this family of ours if it were not for Gabby. Gabby and I talked usually several times a month - sometimes a week - and we didn't have short phone calls. We had those long calls, just being on the phone as she worked and I cleaned or cooked. Sometimes, we irritated each other. Sometimes, one of us didn't want to start one of those calls because we didn't want to spend hours on the phone! Sometimes we got mad at each other and ignored one another. Until the mad spell was over.

Gabby was my "buddy niece". She always returned texts and she always called back. She was not just my niece, she was my friend. I think I am just now realizing that. And I don't think that anyone else in my family realizes that either. It's weird, but Gabby and I had a bond that might surprise some of our family. And because I don't want to make anyone else feel sadder than they already do, I try to hold it in. They can't make it better. Only God can.

She was only 36 years old. And I have sinned by questioning God. I've asked why not take me? Why not take someone who didn't love life as much as Gabby did. Then I repent. God knows what we don't. He has His plans and His reasons. And He did not take Gabby until she had salvation.

But it still hurts so much. I cry or hold back tears so much that I go hoarse. It's hard to enjoy anything - sleep, food, a pretty day.

For a few hours, I was mad at myself that Gabby and I hadn't talked for a while. I'd had COVID and she'd started a part-time job (she had plans that needed a lot of money), and so we hadn't had one of our long chats for a long time. But the thing is, if she was still here, we wouldn't do anything different. Because we don't know the future. 

One thing that I said to another family member after Gabby died is that we need to be careful about our words and actions. What we do to and say to someone could be that last thing. But that's not realistic, is it? We do and say and live and love and laugh and are human. 

I am praying for God to heal this sadness. I know that Gabby would not want me to be feeling this sad for this long. She would want me to be happy again. But she was such a big part of that joy. So for now, I am still mourning and waiting for better days.

Peace

--Free