October

I'm not sure October will ever be a month I can welcome. A month I'm ready for.

Especially if this is how I feel every October. 

I didn't think it would be like this. I didn't think I'd be so lost...so angry... so sad... and struggling to make it through every day. This week will mark one year and I don't want it to. I don't want it to be. There's no way I can look back on this last year. I cannot bear to remember how this year felt. The year that was supposed to be the happiness of planning my wedding to my best friend became a year that was so painful, at times I don't know how we kept going.

I don't know how we've made it this far. But the last thing I want to do is watch the calendar come to one year. I can still remember her like it was yesterday. Laughing at dinner and always skipping out on the dishes. I remember her sitting on the floor while I french braided her hair. Smiling for a hundred pictures before homecoming. Curling her hair for a sweet sixteen party. Letting her borrow my diamond earrings to wear to a dance. She was the little sister I never had...

And painfully I remember not having time to braid her hair the last time she asked. Painfully I remember her being mad at me the last time I saw her before the accident. I remember telling her I loved her and she was mad...

I wish I could, but I'll never forget the hospital. I'll never forget exactly where we were when we got the call that turned everything upside down. Sitting in the car at the stoplight by Sheetz... only minutes from our townhouse.

I won't forget the ride to UVA that Monday morning, so sick to my stomach I couldn't even ride with Andy and Cathy for fear of slowing them down... I wasn't sure I'd make it to the hospital without getting sick.

I will never forget the doctor telling us we'd get to see her for a moment as they wheeled her into surgery... standing in that emergency room hallway, waiting for them to come... I stood there watching Cathy's worst nightmare unfold. Watching Andy scared. Wishing that it was not real...

I tried to prepare for the worst in those minutes. I didn't know it then, but that would be the best she would look. The trauma her body had experienced hadn't fully taken effect so the swelling was minor at that point. She looked like Ang, just laying there on the hospital bed. Sure, I could tell her foot was swollen, but I couldn't fathom the trauma to her body.

I wish I could say that the drive we took that morning was the worst drive of my life. But it wasn't. Andy & I left UVA late that Monday night with hope. With more than hope, we left with a knowing that Ang was going to have a hard, hard road of recovery ahead of her. On the drive home I responded to people via text, e-mail and facebook to update them. I told them to work on cards and letters because Ang would have a hard road of recovery and would not be allowed visitors for awhile. The next morning I planned to create a blog to keep people up-to-date... I realized quickly that day there would be no way we could respond to everyone concerned and praying for Ang {thank you to everyone, it was and still is a blessing}.

When we fell into bed at my mom's house that night, shortly before midnight, we had our plan ready. We'd get up early the next morning, go to our townhouse in Harrisonburg and pack up what we needed to move home for awhile. All we had at the moment were the clothes on our back and we knew we'd need more so we could stay home and be closer to UVA for Ang's recovery.

We hadn't been asleep a half an hour when Andy got the call from Cathy that stopped the world. I can still remember the sound of her voice and the words "brain dead". The words that took away all of our hope. I stepped out of bed in whatever pjs I had wrangled from my mom's closet and put my shoes on. I didn't think, I just moved.

That was the worst drive. We weren't even to the end of my road when we got the call from Ronnie telling us to take our time, there was no reason to rush. That said it all. It answered every question running through our minds. I'll remember that somber drive for as long as I live. I'll remember how I sat there shaking like I was freezing. I'll remember how the closer we got to UVA the slower we drove... like if we just didn't get there it wouldn't be real. As each exit got closer we slowed even more. I don't remember Andy & I talking. I'm sure we said something but I don't remember a single word of that car ride.

I don't remember much between that point and the point where we sat crying in the hallway of the ICU right outside of Ang's room. I don't remember parking the car or getting through the late night security. I don't even remember the moment I saw Cathy. I just remember sitting on the floor. Sitting there on the floor outside of Ang's room... crying and being so lost. How do you process that? How could I process the last 18 hours? Much less handle it all.

I remember the doctors talking to us and all I could think of was how young they looked. I'm sure they were interns or residents or something. I remember the looks on their faces and how badly I wanted them to know Ang. I wanted them to know her. To know how much she had to offer the world, how much she still had to give, still had to do. They had to know it so they would know they had to save her. To find a way to make her okay. I know that didn't make sense, but I couldn't help but think it.

The hospital is a blur of moments all mixed together. I remember the first time I saw Ang's nostrils flair. I just knew that it was huge, that it meant they were wrong. I remember running to get Cathy.... only to find out from the doctors that it didn't matter. It didn't mean anything to the doctors.

I was blessed to be the one to sit with Ang while Cathy, Andy and the rest of the immediate family met with the doctors. While the rest of the family talked to doctor after doctor and the LifeNet team (organ donation) - I sat with Ang. I talked to her. I prayed to God. I willed her to wake up. I remember being terrified that she'd wake up in pain when I was the only one with her. I truly still thought she'd wake up. I honestly have no clue how many meetings and doctors Cathy, Andy and family met with. I just remember the time I spent holding her hand. It felt like days... like the meetings were forever and we had been there for days... but it was just one. One day was all it took and somehow we were supposed to say goodbye.

I'll never forget she still had the temporary tattoo on her arm from the weekend youth retreat she had been on. I remember thinking how she would be mad they shaved a spot of her hair. I still thought she would leave that hospital one day and return home, return to her life...

We'll forever miss you Ang. Not a day goes by that you aren't missed. I know your watching down.