July is a tough month for my Sissy and me. A long time ago, I was over eight months pregnant with my first child. Her name is Shea Marie. The night before she was born, I was in a horrific car accident. I gave birth to her stillborn the next day, and then the doctors found out that I had fractured my spine and shattered my pelvis during the accident. I suffer from a lot of PTSD and long-term traumatic brain injury. There are many times when my brain just doesn’t work quite right. I spent years relearning how to walk and still have paralysis in the toes on my left foot.
My Sissy was only 11 years old when the accident happened. Not only was she home alone with a friend just a couple of years older than her when the call about the accident came in, but she was the person who took care of my brokenness when I was finally released from the hospital. Can you imagine being 11 years old, taking care of your older sister after she lost her child and is physically and mentally broken? I can’t.
For as long as I can remember, we’ve spent Shea’s death day together. I’d like to say that we don’t ever have a plan, but that’s untrue. The plan is that she and I are together that day, and we have a bologna and American cheese sandwich on white bread, with chips. That’s the only plan.
This year, she sent me a text: “You care what time I come over? I ASSumed I’m coming to your place.”
I said, “I ASSumed you were coming over too!”
She asked if she could bring anything, and I told her to bring whatever she wanted to drink. I’d get the rest.
Then she asked if I had a pool, because it’s been hotter than anyone can remember this summer. I knew she meant a kiddy pool so we could soak our feet. I told her no, I didn’t have a pool. I knew she had one, and maybe she’d bring hers. BUT….her question was in my brain. While I was on my walk (remember, I’m training for that marathon with my Sissy) the next day, I kept thinking about that pool…
I went to Target to see if they had any small pools left. They did not. I was pretty bummed. Then checked Walmart’s app, and they had a couple of pools in stock. Heck yeah! 23 hours after the text “Do you have a pool?” I was the proud owner of this magnificent pool:
She showed up, and we walked together and chatted. It was good. When we got back to my house, I made our Grief Sandwiches, and she informed me that the drink of choice she brought was tequila. I took her into the backyard to show off my new pool. She was impressed. đ
Remember, I just got and filled that pool up the day before. Sooooooo….the water was really fucking cold. But we were determined to soak. I say “soak” because I forgot to get us some floaties so we could float. We enjoyed our tequila plus bubbly waters and proclaimed Natron our Pool Boiiiii. He checked on us and asked if we’d want hot water from the water heater. Uh, hellz yes we would. Natron then proceeded to bring out 5-gallon buckets of hot water and dumped them in the pool. I’m pretty sure he hauled 35 gallons of hot water to our pool….It was perfect. Except the fact that we had no floaties. Sooooo…. being the Grief Sisters we are, we asked if he’d run to Target for us to buy us some floaties. Annnnnnndddd….we wanted chips, salsa, and queso from the local Mexican restaurant. Of course he complied; how can you refuse Grief Sisters?!?!
We even got out the bubble machine, and we played yacht rock on a mini speaker that I hadn’t lost in a river yet1.
And we talked about Shea, and us, and our family (our family is severely broken, but that’s a story for a different day.) We had The Pool Boiiiii refill beverages, and we floated on floaties made for eight-year-olds. Laughing, crying, talking, and just being with each other.
I’d like to think Shea would’ve loved her birth/death day this year. I know I did. It was hard as always, but I had my Sissy as always.
Midlife has never felt so good, even when it’s really fucking hard.
~Kimmie, XOXO
- Wait for it………………….. âŠī¸
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