Without You

Death is easy. Dying is hard. But watching and waiting is the hardest. People who claim that saying goodbye is easier when you've had time to come to terms with it are so full of shit. Three days of texts warning me to prepare myself. Three days of guilt for not being at home to shoulder some of the heartbreak. Then suddenly, I find out through Facebook that you're gone. Fucking. Facebook.

I am trying very hard to be OK. When I talked to Amy this morning, I sobbed like an idiot in the silence of the work study office. I can't accept that just two days ago, I was talking with you over GChat. You were sentient. You were sassy. You were you. And now you're past-tense.

Life without you is looking to be one of intermittent episodes of spontaneous weeping. It is very unattractive. You should see the mountain of toilet paper wads in my trash can, girl. I killed a small tree in your honor. I remember thinking about the possibility of this day when I was in high school, and I could not fathom then how I would feel, how devastated I would be. Now that this day has come, I still can't comprehend my own feelings. So I'm ignoring them. I've spent my day surrounded by people. And when I finally found myself alone, I wept for Amy, I wept for Dad, I wept for Mom, and I wept for you. My entire face hurts from all this weeping. And I feel silly and selfish for it. You were clearly uncomfortable in your last days, girl, and it was selfish of me to hope that you would hold out until I came home.

I can't believe I didn't make it. I can't believe I wasn't there. But I'm thankful you weren't alone when you drew your last breath.

Amy told me that Dad cried when he took you to the hospital this morning. Correction, he cried when he left you at the hospital this morning. This may have triggered my fourth bout of weeping, I don't know, I've lost count now.  I think back to Sebastian and Spencer, but this is different. You were you, you were the Queen of the Wang household. You've left behind this power vacuum and I don't think anyone has what it takes to replace you. Certainly not Abby, she hasn't the balls. And Amy simply couldn't give a damn.

I remember when we brought you home in that box in the back of the Previa, when Dad tore off his Hawaiian shirt Baywatch style to fish you out of the swimming pool, when I had to crawl into the bushes to extract the six beautiful bundles of  life that you brought into this world independently, when you used to rest your head on my knee to shamelessly beg for scraps, when we climbed Mission Peak and you decided halfway down that you weren't having it and we had to carry you the rest of the way, when Dad had you shaved and you gave us the cold shoulder for a week and I cried because all your beautiful fur was gone and you looked like a dingo with a Lassie head photoshopped onto its body...

I used to complain about your bad breath, but now I miss the feeling of your rough nose forcing its way under my arm so I'd scratch your ears.

I'm sorry for all the times I called you Quasimodo. I'm sorry for making fun of your fatty tumor. I'm sorry for that one time I fed you a Jalapeno and also for the Listerine strip.

It's sad, I can't remember what it was like when you could still hear. I vaguely remember that your favorite phrases were "吃飯了!" and "餵狗!" and that you used to hasten into the kitchen whenever Mom made her signature sound of dismay when she dropped something.

Anyone who came to our house instantly recognized your supreme position in our household. In fact, they were probably more excited to see you than any of us. I don't know what I'm going to say when people ask me how you're doing, or tell me that they're soooo excited to see you over the break. I don't think it would be socially acceptable to tell them to go fuck themselves then run into a dark corner to cry.

Dad says he cried, not because he was hurting, but because he was thankful. I'm not so sure I can say the same. I don't like losing, girl. And you were certainly God's greatest gift to us for all these years. Thanks for the best sixteen years of my life. You taught me how to love. Growing up with you, it just came naturally. You showed me unconditional love, despite all the times where I'd make you wait just because I didn't want to get out of bed or pause my TV show. I guess in the end, it really is all about the regrets. I hope you left this world knowing that you were loved, and my only regret is that I wish I could have loved you more. There are only three people I have ever loved more than you baby, and now that you're gone, the number of things I care about in this world has shrunk to three.

I wish I could have scratched your ears one last time and given you a final kiss and hug. I don't think I could have ever brought myself to say goodbye. When I think about going home and not having to check behind the front door to see if you're lying there, I die a little bit inside. I also know I'm probably going to instinctively do it anyways, and then I'll remember, and it'll be like finding out all over again.

I can't bring myself to announce this to the world, so I guess this is one way of doing it indirectly.

I still can't believe you're gone.