Things I can't explain.
I refuse to eat at Buffalo Wild Wings- it's the last place we went to eat before you (my brother, Shawn) went into the hospital and never came out. I remember you looking very pale- we kept asking if you were okay. You went to the restroom for a long time- maybe 10 minutes, came out and you were sweating. The next morning, you would collapse on our parents kitchen floor and the ambulance would have to come to help my Mom pick you up and take you to the hospital, where a month later, you would lose your battle with leukemia.
You told me, "The first place I'm going to go eat when I well is Dynasty Buffet." I still can't go there. You won't ever get to eat there again.
My husband works second shift and is always asleep when I leave for work in the morning. Some mornings, I look over and he looks like Shawn did right after he passed. The darkness of our room makes his skin look grey, his mouth is hanging wide open and his eyes are closed. I freak out, go over and wake him or move him... just so I don't see that look again.
All during Shawn's battle: I wrote on his caringbridge journal page from my phone. It was always one of the top bookmarks. Now that we don't write as often, it's hard for me not to see "Shawn's Site" listed among the top sites that automatically pop up in my phone. For the first three months or so, if it was about to be replaced by other sites I had looked at, I would click on his page, just so it would stay on that initial list. I can't explain it. I just did it.
I can't erase his number from my phone.
Call me in denial- whatever you want... but There are some things I can't deal with yet, and I can't explain to anyone WHY.
I wish I didn't have to deal with this. I wish YOU never had to deal with losing your life at 24 years of age. I can't believe you'll never get married or have kids. You would have been the BEST father. Cancer stole it all.
I hate cancer. It has turned my life upside down- how can I live in a world that doesn't include you?
I'm still trying to figure that out. Almost six months later... and it's still just as fresh.
I miss you.