Untitled and Unreal

It took only minute for it to happen for me. 

"Rusty's dead." 

I know that we talked about a few other things after she said it, but I don't remember any of it.  I don't remember picking up JJ from school after I hung up the phone, and I don't remember calling Jerry to tell him.  Right now, I'm finding it very difficult to even type about it right now.  It almost doesn't seem real to me.

The next day following that call, I was in the car with my sleeping baby on the way to my mom's.  Throughout the entire two hour ride, I became angrier and angrier.  How could he do this to her?  Why did he have to do it where she could find him?  I hate this.  I hate him for killing himself.  I hate that my sister hurts so badly.  I'm full of hate.  And I hate that.

The first day I got there, I went straight to my sister's house.  She didn't hug me or anything mushy like that.  We just looked at each other.  I wouldn't call it an awkward moment, just an "I don't want us to be together over something like this" moment.  All she wanted was for me to be near her so she knew I was okay.  All she wanted was to know what her family were safe.  For a few hours I wrangled my toddler in her non-baby-proof house and didn't get to spend any time with her.  I spend the entire weekend doing this - standing around, chasing a one-year-old, and not spending time with my sister. 

Actually, that's not entirely true.  On Saturday, I took my mom and the three boys  (my nephews William and James, and JJ) to the video game store to pick out new video games and out to lunch.  It was fun, especially for James, to get away from the house and do something cool.  Other than our three hour outing, the standing around/chasing JJ thing is totally what happened.

The only thing significant I did was drive my sister to her husband's funeral.  Just like the day I drove her to the church to marry him.  As least, I think I did.  My memory isn't as good as it used to be.

To add even more rainbows and butterflies to the weekend, I'm still fighting off a nasty cold and JJ crash landed on my mom's coffee table with his face, subsequently landing both of us (and Jerry and my mom, too!) in the ER on Sunday night.  I ran out of the reception after the funeral because JJ had gotten hurt and didn't even say goodbye to my sister.  I felt terrible about it, so I decided to stay the night to go see her in the morning.  BUT THEN, the hospital called after we got back to let me know that I had left my wallet there.  Icing on the cake, my friends.

I ended up going back to the hospital, which is 30 minutes in the opposite direction of my sister's house, the next morning and didn't go back to her house.   I had a baby who was very tired and at the end of his rope and I needed to get him home.  I couldn't stretch him any further than he was already stretched.  I needed to take care of my family, but I knew her family was already taking care of her.  I felt slightly justified leaving when I did, but I feel guilty about it now.

I don't know what I can do for her except pray.  I'm open to suggestions.   I feel so insignificant.

When something horrible happens to us, this close, it takes at least  few days or so for it to become real.  It took only a minute for it to happen to me.  It will take a lifetime for it to happen to her.  That is what makes me the most sad.