My Sister Died

I consider myself haunted.  I am struggling desperately trying to accept the reality that my sister died a few weeks ago.  My mind keeps replaying the late night - early morning phone call I received from my father telling me that she was, "non-responsive," and I better come over.

When I got there I was thinking I needed to stay out of the driveway because I didn't want to be in the way of the paramedics.  But there didn't seem to be any paramedics.  Only police.  My father said, "I think she died."  It became clear too fast that there was not going to be a trip to the ER - that is what I was prepared for.  Not this.  Never this.  I think I screamed.  I am pretty sure my legs buckled.

I still feel that way, but I've tried to start understanding that my sister is gone - our little team is forever broken.

I cried.  I held my mom's hand.  I hugged my dad without reservation. I answered the questions asked by the police. Yes, the police were there.  They photographed everything.

A young woman appeared about 1am and she was the coroner.  Why was there a coroner in my parents newly remodeled house?  I answered questions and tried to be helpful.  I needed to be strong, be present, be a good daughter because I was the only daughter my parents had.  I think i smelled alcohol on my mom's breath.  Who could blame her.  I wanted to drink, too.  But I didn't.  I am 16 years sober and my sister just died and we don't know why.

The coroner needed to do a physical exam.  An autopsy.  How is this possible?

Where is the puppy?  There is a puppy still in my sister's room.  I can hear the puppy crying.  I make the police let me downstairs to get the puppy.  They wouldn't let me see my sister, but they let me take the crying puppy.

I called my best friend, the only man I love other than my dad, Mark at 3:00am.  He called me back and when I told him he came and held me, and cried with me.

My sister's boyfriend, who lived there, called his mom to come and get him.

The police said they found needles and empty bags.  How could I not know?

Just the other day she hugged me goodbye, cold and sweaty, and laughing trying to explain something I used to do to make her laugh when she was young.  So, I did it - and she laughed.  I didn't think anything of it.  God, how I wished I looked closer at that room - maybe I would have seen something.

But she hid everything.  We all knew she was drinking, but we didn't know she was using again.