Where are my angels?

Where are my angels?

I’m not asking this to be an ass or a pain or in vain? I mean it with all my heart. Don’t we all grow up thinking that we have a guardian angel hovering just above us making sure things are going the way they are supposed to? I grew up and really believed that I was going to lead a charmed life because well… I had angels. They loved me; they watched over me and protected me.
I realize now that my angels must be on an extended vacation or that I have been such a bad person they left me because NO ONE is watching over me. NO ONE. I'm all alone now. Oh, Heather, that is blasphemy right? I don’t care. I’m having a crisis of faith. My Dad died.. (Yes, we all know that. I’m not talking about that, just mentioning it has been little more than a month.) I’m asking you, where are my angels?

I have been given more that I can bare. MORE than I can bare, get it I'm Not Job from the bible. I don’t know how I can be more broken. I’m literally breaking down. It is hard to lift my eyes they are so tired let alone to walk and accept this proudly. I have spent 4 days now sleeping in my car in the hospital's parking lot. Tonight I’m “styling.” I’m staying in a van versus my little Hyundai. I'm planning on taking enough sleeping pills where I can sleep with my body in the car and my legs sticking out. Gets to a point of exhaustion where it doesn’t matter. It’s all good. I Can’t leave my sister and sleep some where farther away. What if she wakes up? I want to be the second face she sees so if that means I sleep in the parking lot and wash my hair in the labor and delivery bathroom that is what I’ll do. I roll that way. All for family. The Boulanger way.

I have tried hard to be brave for my nieces and nephew. I have tried to be “stoic” and not cry. Think positively everyone. We can do this. I do however recognize this is the hospital where my most beloved sister lays. I’m an orphan and have had my oldest sister, Kim act as a “Mom” figure for me. Let me explain something I don’t really fully understand myself. When I’m scared, stressed, freaked or confused all it takes is for me to hear Kim's voice on the other phone and whatever I have been holding in comes barreling out. Just the sound of her voice on the phone saying “Heddi, what is going on?” comforts me. She is my person. The person you don't decide to be the person. They are the safe place. You hear their voice and know you can surrender all that is in your heart. She will know instinctively/intuitively that stuff is going on and always phones me when I need her the most.

She had cancer some 5 odd years ago. My Double radical mastectomy sister, Kim. She has been so sick since then. Not from a reoccurrence of cancer but infections followed by infections. She complains incessantly about how she hates taking the chemo pills everyday because they make her feel like she has the flu but she has dutifully taken them so she could stay cancer free. Infection free… not so much. We just had a surprise 50th birthday in July for her. Oh man, she had so many fans there at her party. She got more loot than a 50 year old woman should get. LoL. My sister is the corner stone of our whole family. She keeps things rolling along.

What do you do when the cornerstone of your house collapses? You crumble to your knees? You fall down and don’t get up? Why can’t I be that selfish? Let go and leave it to others? Why do I have to always be the grown up? I want to cry and stomp my feet and scream and never stop… WHY>????

She switched chemo pills recently and started feeling better. What did she do when she was finally feeling better? She came down and spent a week with me. She chose to come down and be with me the minute she felt better. I am so blessed to have her in my life. She is my sister, my mother and my friend. She always allies with me, always has my back and is a believer in our most sacred Boulanger heritage. We are a dying breed and we love to talk about what being a Boulanger means to us.

She is the person who holds me together when my husband can’t. When it takes a woman’s hand, someone to kick my butt when I need it. (She would never say “butt” out loud. She is prim and proper and Yes, I’m sure we are the same blood line.) She is everything a girl could aspire to be. She loves her family fiercely. As lady like as she is, she would claw out your eyeballs if you came for one of the family. She is protective. She is the mother looking after her cubs. She is emotional, cries easily and loves everyone. She is my role model; she puts the best foot forward. People either love her or hate her but she is real. If everyone loves you I don't think you are making a difference. You aren't living.

Why all this Kimmie talk? These thoughts should have been expressed here so much earlier. She is “My person.” If you don’t know what I mean I don’t care. My person. She is my person. She is also right now lying in a hospital bed and I believe brain dead. I’ve been sleeping in my car for the past 4 days in the hospital parking lot. No, not looking for sympathy really, just can’t bear to leave the lot. I’m thinking she will wake up right when I leave. I can’t have that. My person needs to see me. I need to see her. I sit in the waiting room day after day waiting for my allotted 15 minute turn at seeing her. It is so discouraging. I started out with such faith that God knew how much I could handle, he knew I just lost my Dad and am walking such a thin line mentally. He and his angels have given up on me. They don’t care about me because I’m at the end of my rope. My sister comes to Kaiser for an infection is up and talking and they find her a half hour later neither breathing or heart beating. We don’t know how long it was between the half hour of being scene last and being found in that state. We have been told that it only took one turn at the paddles and she came back. (They explained this was the good part… Only having to use the paddles once.) Oh, how hopeful. We are Boulanger’s and we beat the odds. We always do. Don’t we?

God he knows. He knows how much I love her. He knows how much we all still need her. He knows how much I’m alone when she dies and yet she hangs on a ventilator and feeding tubes and I can’t stand not to hope. No one will say out loud what we are all thinking. That she is no longer living in the body being held together by a feeding tube and a ventilator. It is too scary a thought. She has three kids and a husband that need her. NEED HER.

Instead we talk quietly around it, afraid if we verbalize what everyone is thinking we might jinx the miracle. The miracle her husband and we so desperately need. But, I don’t believe in miracles. Suppose it has been a long time coming. Who can say they have seen a real miracle? I mean a real miracle? Not even so sure about what I believe about prayer right now. I have lost so much. I suppose it is really conceited for me to wonder what I have done/haven’t done that has made the ones I love around me die. Would God really kill my sister and cause her family to suffer to teach me a lesson? Would he take a mother to teach a sister a lesson? I don’t think that is true yet I can’t shake the feeling I’m supposed to be learning something. I’m desperate for any clue as to why. WHY? Does anyone have an answer? I’ll grasp straws. I’ll roll the dice. At this point I’d just about do anything to make tomorrow not happen. I don’t want to go to the “family meeting.” I want to scream so loud. I want to run away. Today I actually contemplated starting a scene so I could drive away and not look back. I can’t do that because we Boulanger’s, we stick together. Since we are almost instinct, we best keep to our kind. I don’t need any more prayers. God is not listening. He…