The Before and After of October 9, 2021

I don’t know why I’m writing this. There’s no logical point to it; you won’t read it. But here we are. I want to apologize beforehand for the handwriting. My hands are already shaking, and I haven’t even started. Honestly, I don’t know where to start with this. There’s so much that has happened, and even more I want to say. I don’t want to ramble and make this a mess either. Maybe it’ll be best to start at the beginning.

It was March 20, 2007, when I opened my eyes for the first time. All I could see was darkness. I was scared, terrified even. I had no idea where I was or who I was. So I cried. They echoed throughout the room until your voice filled my ears. The first thing I heard was your singing. It was warm and soft. It immediately calmed me down, and I didn’t feel scared anymore. Instead of fear, joy warmed my tiny heart. I was so excited to finally meet you. But when you pulled me close against your chest, I knew I would be safe as long as you were there with me.

Before I knew it, the laughter of September 3, 2012, filled my ears. Dirt covered my knees as I stood up. Dad had thrown the birdie too high over the net again, and I tried to grab it, but my legs were too short to reach it. I had asked you to play with the others, but you gave me a sad smile and told me you couldn’t. Your knees made it too difficult for you to play. I was sad, though that didn’t last long when we ate s'mores together. Dad made a face at them; he had never liked them. You laughed at him, and at me when I got sticky marshmallow all over my face. I felt the cold, wet cloth touch my face as you carefully wiped it away. When you were done, a big grin appeared on my face as I sprinted back to the others. I didn’t see the smile you gave back.

On October 31, 2015, a pink dress fell to my ankles. It was kinda itchy, but it was beautiful with the silver accents. I think the tiara was my favorite part of the costume. I fixed my tiara as I eagerly posed for the picture, desperately wanting to leave already. Even then, my smile lit the room up as you and Dad snapped the picture. Both of you hugged me tight, calling me your little princess. My smile only grew as I wiggled out of your arms and rushed down the hall, giggling all the way. I struggled to get my shoes on, I hadn’t learn to tie them yet, but you helped me put them on and took me to the car. I could hardly sit still in my seat, I was so excited for the candy.

If you had to ask me what year everything started going wrong, I probably would’ve said January 16, 2018. You hugged me tightly as you told me Grandma has gone to see Jesus. You shielded me from her body. You didn’t want me to see her pale skin hooked up to so many machines. I could feel you trembling in my arms as your body shook with tears. I think the others were crying too, but yours were the only one echoing in my ears. It wasn’t long until Dad came over and hugged us both tightly. I buried my face in your arms, hugging tightly. Your sadness was mine, and I wish I could make you happy. I wanted to see your smile, not your tears.

After that, I shared your burdens. I knew the months following were hard on you. Honestly, it was hard on me too, but for your sake, I hid that. Every time your cries filled my ears, I could feel my heart stop. I always rushed to you, wanting you to be happy and doing everything I could to make that wish a reality. I would clean, I would ramble, I would comfort. But that didn’t always work; sometimes you would push me away, and others you would take it out on me. I always hated those times; despair would crawl its way into my heart during them. I never felt complete without you. You were my best friend, and without you, I was alone. I willed myself to forget it when you pulled me close and apologized. You didn’t mean to hurt me, that I knew. You always reminded me that I was yours and that you loved me. Sometimes it still hurts, though.

It wasn’t long before I followed in your footsteps. I went from living to just barely surviving. I didn’t see myself as something to be saved. It felt like every day I was standing in the mirror, picking everything apart. What I would do if I had some supernatural power from the stories I’ve read. Soon, being a burden crossed my mind. After that, I threw the blankets over the mirrors. But you didn’t know that. I wouldn’t allow it. I didn’t want to hurt you more, so I learned to hide it. To wash the tears and puffiness from my eyes after a long night. Where to get a blade that wouldn’t be missed, how to hide it, and how to put a smile on your face. I learned how to make my voice sound fine when, inside, I wanted to jump into traffic. It felt like my heart was wrapped in barbed wire every time I lied to you.

It was only in 2019 that I started coming clean. Never to the fullest extent, I didn’t think you’d take that well. But I was honest enough that the doctor thought therapy would be beneficial to me. You and Dad thought it was stupid; you thought I didn’t need it. Sometimes I wish I weren’t so good at pretending. Maybe it would’ve been easier if you had found out sooner. You only took the doctor seriously when you found the rows of cuts along my thigh. You sobbed as you called my therapist. I pulled my knees tightly against my chest. Shame flushed my cheeks. I hated it when you cried. Now I was the reason you were. I regretted allowing you to find them.

Somewhere in the middle of the storm, May 10, 2018, came along. I still think it was one of your favorite days. I had just finished the required class to make sure I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew it and I wanted it. You were so excited for me. Eventually, your excitement became mine, and I endured you dragging me to the baptism tub with our pastor and Dad. I was wearing the waterproof robe that they had provided for me. It was kinda awkward, but I didn’t mind. Though when it was finally my time to walk up those steps into the water, your excitement outshone everyone else's.

The year 2020 came before I knew it. It started just as any other year, and I thought it would be fine. Then the pandemic hit shortly after my birthday, and I realized how wrong I was. I wasn’t affected too much, considering I was homeschooled, but you were worried sick. Your health was already bad, and your immune system was worse. You were terrified of what would happen if you caught it, and you did everything you could to not get it. At the time, I thought you were over exaggerating. I hate myself for thinking that.

The next year, you convinced me to go to a youth event at our church. I was hesitant to agree; we hadn’t been to church since my baptism. The combination of your health and dad’s schedule didn’t allow it anymore. I didn’t really want to go. I didn’t have any friends after all. I would just be alone. Maybe that’s why you were so insistent on me going. You had a huge smile on your face when I came back, rambling on about the event. The next week, I started going to the youth group. It shortly became a weekly thing. You still couldn’t come to the church, but you seemed to enjoy my rambling afterward.

It wasn’t long after that when I told you the news. I had just reached a month sober from my… habits. While the knives were still kept out of my reach on top of the fridge, you were excited for me. You pulled me close and congratulated me for it. You always did it, whether it was just another week or half a year; you always congratulated me. I think you were happy that at least one of us was enjoying life. You were glad that I wasn’t continuing in your footsteps.

It was the fall of 2021 when your health began to decline. We didn’t know why, but we just chalked it up to a cold. You got sick pretty easily after all, it wasn’t anything new. The new thing was that you didn’t get better after a week. I leaned against the door, watching Dad check you over and give you medicine. I tried to hide my fear, though my gut told me something was deeply wrong. Even still, I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to worry you guys, and I thought it was just my anxiety. I hate myself for not saying something sooner. Maybe it could’ve gone differently.

It was only a week later that you had to be carried to the hospital in an ambulance. I couldn’t watch, and I didn’t. Instead, my back hit the door of my bathroom as I slid down, gripping my hair tightly as tears rushed down my face. I couldn’t breathe. Guilt quickly consumed me. If only I voiced my worry, then maybe just maybe you wouldn’t be in this position. I was stupid to go against my gut. I pulled my knees tightly against my chest. Something again told me that you wouldn’t make it, and I didn’t want that to be true. However, I made a vow to myself. If you died, I would too. I didn’t want to live in a world without you; it sounded like hell. You were my everything, my sun, my world, my anchor. If you were gone, then who was I?

One of my regrets is never visiting you. Maybe you thought it was heartless, but I just couldn’t stand seeing you hooked up to so many wires. It honestly made me think of when Grandma died, except now, I had no one to shield me from it. Besides, even if I did go, I would’ve only been able to look at you through a window. I wasn’t allowed inside the room since you caught that virus you were so worried about. I texted you every small thing, every stupid thing our cats did. I just wanted to talk to you, to hear your voice. I kept the vow a secret from you; I knew you would’ve tried talking me out of it. But then you started getting better, and I forgot all about it. I didn’t care about it anymore; it wasn’t our reality. You would be coming home soon.

My eyes fluttered open to Dad shaking me, tears flooding his eyes. He never cried. My heart sank; he didn’t have to say anything. I already knew you were gone. Everything went numb as my body went into autopilot. We had to go say our last goodbye to you. I didn’t want to. Guilt consumed my heart more. Was this my fault? Maybe it was. I remembered my vow; I didn’t think it would happen. But now it would be a reality. I glanced at the date as my tears dried; it was October 9, 2021, when you left me.

My breathing turned ragged as I slid down the door, my leg red and the blade gripped tightly in my hand. I winced as I pulled my knees close. It was the night before your funeral, and I had broken my promise to you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. My vision was blurred when I read 4:01 am on the clock. I hadn’t slept. Now I had to go to your funeral and deal with everyone while acting like I wasn’t just thinking about killing myself.

Before I knew it, the year 2022 came, marking the start of my second semester of high school at an all-girls school— that’s just my luck, isn’t it? I didn’t want to be living anymore; I didn’t see a point. But I couldn’t leave Dad alone; I just couldn’t do that to him. At that time, it was the only thing keeping me alive. I wondered if I did something to deserve this, if I was being punished for something I did. I wouldn’t say I was angry with God. I went to Him a lot during those past few months, but I couldn’t see why He was doing this to me.

Things slowly started getting better over the next few months. I adjusted quickly to the school and made new friends at the youth group. They helped me with your death without even knowing it. I think you’d be happy to know that they were pulling me closer to God. I was still struggling with wanting to live, but it was getting better. I thought about you daily, and I still missed you.

I remember us fighting over school a lot when I was younger. I hated school, and I fell behind because of it. I wonder what you’d think if you knew I’m becoming one of the top students. Would you be proud of me? Dad says he is. I’ve sobered up from my habits again. I was a bit happier. My regrets still gripped my heart tightly, but I was surviving. I looked forward to school as well as the youth group. I still miss you.

The year 2025 came before I knew it, and with that, it marked the end of my high school years. I’m honestly surprised Dad didn’t cry from joy. It was bittersweet, mostly because you weren’t here with me. You never witnessed me getting my diploma. I wonder what you’d think about me, of all people, getting awards for school. I wonder what you’d think about me winning the scholarship essay. Maybe all of those stupid stories I wrote as a kid helped me. I wish you were here to see me. It hurts to see the rest of my class with their mothers.

The next thing I knew, it was August. I’m exhausted from the summer; I had a bunch of trips. I’m glad I got to go on them, though. I wonder how you would react to me being out of the country twice now. Either way, I’m getting ready for college now. It’s really nerve-racking. I didn’t even think I’d get this far, but here I am. I still remember looking at colleges with you when I was a freshman. I hate that I’m doing this without you now. I wish you were here.

I wonder what your reaction would be. I’m not the girl you knew anymore. I’ve grown up without you, and I’ve gotten a job. I’m working towards a future career and heading into college. Tears flood my eyes just thinking about it. Would you even recognize me? I’ve grown more into my style, I know what I like and how to dress. I’ve gotten some more ear piercings and soon a tattoo. What would you think of that? What would you say about everything I’ve done up till now? What would you think of my hobbies or my interests? I know I’ll eventually see you again, but I wish you were here with me now. I wish you still knew me. Dad and I miss you a lot. We still love you to the moon and back.

Sincerely,

Your Daughter.