Writing in the Spirit of Paula

It's a rainy, Wednesday afternoon and I'm feeling rather blue. Sometimes I feel like my mood brings on this weather.
Wednesday's were our days to chat endlessly, to hang out without kids during the school year, or with them over the summer. The last few years, they were the days I would help her if she had treatments, whether she needed a chauffeur to the hospital or to pick the kids up from school or camp. A lot of my Wednesday's, I would spend an entire day into the evening at their little home, cleaning, doing laundry, throwing together a meal, spending time with her, Otto and Nelson and an occasional dinner with Casey if I stayed into the evening. The Wednesday's we weren't together, I'd call her after I dropped the kids off at school, and she'd always pick up on the 1st ring. It was our routine.

This week has been looming over me since the beginning of the month. A year ago tomorrow was the beginning of her decline. A year ago tomorrow was the last day she was at my house. Paula dropped off the boys for the day, since she had appointments, tests, scans and everything else under the sun to diagnose the latest symptom. Her distended belly.
I remember the feeling that came over me while I watched her walk down our brick path to the gate. She was wearing a cute cotton pencil skirt, her black wedge sandals and an adorable cartigan sweater with her favorite headscarf. As she walked away, I knew, this was the last day she would be walking down that path.
The kids and I had a wonderful day. We had one of the younger Rizzis with us too, which changed the dynamic, and gave Avery another girl to hang with. However, regardless of the laughing, the squeals of excitement as I spun all 5 kids on the merri-go-round at the park, I remember seeing and feeling a darkness that day when I looked at Otto and Nelson. It hovered like a gray cloud, and I tried to counter it. I wished it away, used all my positivity and inner light to send it somewhere else, but it lingered. That night, we received the news that little could be done for Paula, and her liver was failing.

I've read about grief, had therapy sessions to cope, but grief  has no difinative path, list or direction. Grief is personal and unique for every individual. There are days I almost forget I'll never see her again, then nights I lay in bed, tears streaming down my face, missing my sister so desperately. Those nights I feel like I might die, because my heart is so broken. I once read, the 1st year after someone you love passes, is easier than the ones to come. During the 1st year, you push yourself through the birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries. You expect those times will be difficult, but it's the years to follow when it becomes REAL. It's the realization of the permanence of death. It's knowing I'm forgetting how her hugs felt, the placement of the beauty marks that were drizzled all over her body. I miss the way she snapped her gum, and the look of her beautiful, long tapered fingers, and her funky feet. She was the one person, beside my husband, I could say anything to, discuss everything with, without fear, shame or hesitation. We used to cuddle on the couch, rub feet and massage shoulders and she'd always find something to pick at on my back. My sister would revise all of my writing, correct grammar and note my run on sentences. She was an amazing writer, and I only wish I had a fraction of her intelligence, not to mention her sense of style.

My kids miss their Aunt Lala more than I ever thought they would. Every gift she gave them or made for them are cherished like gold. They talk about conversations they had together, or silly ways she'd act, or faces she would make. My children found so much comfort in her, and she was their favorite aunt. There are some nights they cry for Paula, and we hold each other tight. Avery tells me she's sorry for me, and I wonder how my 11 year old could have so much empathy. Vaughn, he holds it in until he explodes into tears, and hugs me and says he'll never let me go.

I miss my sister, it's just that brutally simple. I will never have a relationship with anyone, like I had with her. I feel so lucky to have shared love with her for so long. Not everyone has that type of relationship with their siblings, and I am grateful.

Today, I write in the Spirit of my sister Paula. I write for me. I write knowing she's reading this, missing me too, while correcting all of my mistakes. 💗