Sigh.

It’s been a while since I last wrote a letter or anything.
I’ve started to forget. It scares the living hell out of me. I’ve started forgetting Chelcie, how her hands felt, her cheeks, her eyes, her lips, her smile, her curls… her. I need a picture to remember.
I want to write down my thoughts from those 4 months ago, before I forget them, too.

July 30th, 2013.
Chelcie’s nurse wasn’t as chatty as she usually was. I felt like something was up, but maybe it was personal business. I didn’t want to pry or anything.
I was having a good day as of lunchtime. I saw on tumblr that people were hiding pictures of Nicolas Cage all over their house, so I decided to do that as well. One in my parent’s shower, one on the main toilet cover, a picture in the hallway, the fan in my sister’s room, the sun visor in my dad’s truck.
Not 10 minutes after I showed my sisters my handiwork, my world came crashing down.
“Susan, come here.” Crystal called for my mother, but I happened to walk into the room at the same time so I listened in.
“Her heart isn’t beating properly. She’s dying.”
I could suddenly hear the blood rushing in my ears, and my head felt foggy. I ran outside without thinking, ran, and ran, to the far back with my horse. I sat down under one of the old walnut trees and let the ants crawl on me. Then I blacked out.
I sat there I don’t know how long. Maybe an hour, maybe 5 minutes. My horse was standing next to me, eating almonds from a different tree.
I stood up. I couldn’t remember why I was out there, but then it hit me.
Chelcie is dying.
The rest of that day passed in a blur. My entire family showed up at the house, including Chelcie’s biological parents and their family. I had a bit of satisfaction when Andrew went to the bathroom and walked back out 5 seconds later because Nicolas Cage was giving him stage fright.
The next few days were blurs as well. Each morning I woke up, praying that it was all a dream and that Chelcie was okay. But it wasn’t.
I stopped sleeping after my mother forgot to give Chelcie her medicine every two hours, so I took up the job myself. I watched Les Mis countless times. Wrote.
August 7th, 2013. 6:50 AM.
Pale. Cold. Empty eyes.
That was all that was left of my baby sister. She wore the white dress she was in when we adopted her. Her skin was so cold and white, I was almost scared to touch her. Her lips were so pale, they, too, were almost white. Her eyes were this dull grayish blue, so empty and void of anything I wish I never made the mistake of looking at them.
The days following that, I remember actually praying to god to let me die. I begged and begged for God to just let me die, but he never listened.

It’s been four months, and we still haven’t gotten all of Chelcie’s clothes put away. We still have yet to put away the toys she never could use, and never will use.