My sister Carla.
She
passed away very unexpectedly on December 22, 2007 and her memorial
service was held on January 5th, 2008--on what would have been her 59th
birthday.
I've spent so much time crying and feeling restless and
numb, that I don't know what household duties and 'things to do' I've
missed or forgotten. I'll start to do something, then wander off and
forget about it midway through. Most nights I don't sleep, because the
minute it's quiet, with nothing left to do but go to bed, as soon as I
lay down, my mind starts running over what happened. I'll lay there for
a bit and invariably start crying again, then get up and go out into
the living room so I won't keep J. awake. I turn on the TV, because
anything
is better than just sitting there rehashing her death and how horrible
the world is going to be without her. Any distraction helps.
Carla
and her husband avoided dying in a fire that burned their home to the
ground on December 13th. They weren't home when it happened, and the
house that they built themselves burned to the ground along with
everything they owned. I spoke to Carla for the last time on December
19th, when she called to thank me for a Target gift card and some money I
sent her to try and help replace some of what they had lost in the
fire. She told me that they were moving into a furnished condo,
provided by their insurance company, in two days. She seemed as chipper
as she could be in such circumstances, and had a slight cold. She had
epilepsy for many years but had not had a seizure in several years, and
was on medication for it. She even joked about the nickname they had
come up for their burned-out house--'Ash Manor' or some such. I wish I
could remember what it was, because typical Carla, it was as funny as
Hell. Before I hung up, she promised to call on Friday with the new
telephone number at the condo. I felt better knowing that I'd talk to
her again in two days.
Two days later I got a call from my oldest
sister, telling me that Carla had suffered an epileptic seizure that
day, and had fallen in such a way that her airflow had been obstructed
and she had quit breathing. By the time it was discovered and help
arrived for her, she was already gone. They had resuscitated her, but
she was in the hospital ICU on a respirator and had not regained
consciousness.
She died the following day. My brother was
already on his way to our mom's house in Northern California, where he
would escort her to Idaho. They decided to continue on to Idaho anyway
to see if they could do anything for Carla's husband.
Between
Christmas that was just a couple of days away and a massive winter storm
that had descended on Idaho, it was a miracle that my brother and my mom
even got there. There simply wasn't an available airline seat for me,
and had they waited until there was, it would have caused needless
delay. I hated not being there but felt it was more important to get my
mom there quickly.
Right now I'm flip-flopping between
sadness, loss, guilt and anger. The guilt comes from the fact that
rather than send money and call, I should have made the trip up there to
help her get settled in her new place...I had the time, since my
daughter N. was off school for the holidays, I had the money...and
lastly, I've been trained in CPR for almost 30 years now. If only I'd
been there, I possibly could have revived her and kept her going till the
paramedics got there.
I suppose all this will get better in
time, I don't know. I guess, in a way our family has been pretty
lucky--the only other family member to die was my father, back in 1981.
I
have so many great memories of Carla. Spending a day with her and her
husband was better than going to Disneyland for us kids, they were so
much fun. Carla introduced me to old books (and used bookstores),
Steinbeck, vintage children's books, old movies, cult movies,
anything and everything quirky and weird, antiques--too many things to count, which I continue to love. She was a
guiding force in our childhood, always fun and loving but at the same
time witty and clever--everyones favorite.
When I was little they tell me that I couldn't pronounce her name, so I called her 'La La'.
Goodbye La La, I love you.
