These past few months that you’ve been gone… have felt empty.
I don’t know how to process that you’re gone. I feel like I’m this world of Social Media and YouTube… that I could just pick up my phone and text you and somehow you might reply.
I’ve sifted through your diaries, videos, photographs and precious memories like the gold that they were and are.
I know that your struggle with depression and anxiety was more monumental than you ever let on to those you didn’t fully trust. You made going through every medical procedure look so effortless, even though it literally tore you up inside every single time.
The people you loved, breaking your heart over and over as you were constantly put on the back burner for them to continue their lives while yours stood still. Yet your infectious smile and musical laughter assured them that you were okay and you wished them well.
The nights you cried yourself to sleep wondering if you were enough for anyone, I hope you knew and know that you were always enough for me.
I miss your sparkling eyes when you talked about the future and my heart broke with you every time your health knocked those plans just out of your reach. I wanted you to know you were capable and worthy of every dream and plan you ever cooked up.
When dad called to tell me you might not make it… I felt my heart drop to into my stomach and I knew right then and there that there was no coming back from this one… you had finished your fight and we’re too tired to continue.
I rushed to Edmonton and made it there in time to have an hour with you while the life support pumped away and whispered in your ear that “It was okay to go.”
When the doctor told me that you were gone mentally and there was no coming back from the state you were in without you becoming a vegetable
… I knew in my heart that either you were in your mind in fetal position waiting and hoping for us to let you go… or you were either already floating above us hugging us and begging us to.
We made the decision to let you go as we could not let you continue on in a state where you’d be unable to even have the basic joys you had with your conditions…
And as the doctors unhooked you from life support and you held my hand… I did feel the slightest squeeze from your rigid hands. The effort that must have taken… I will forever hold that closely in my heart.
The boys have grown a bit now. Wilder and Adrian still cry when they miss you.
I feel your presence every once in awhile… like a cool breeze in moments between episodes of tears. I can’t see you, but I feel you and I’ll always love you. It’s taking a lot of strength to not join you.
But when I do finally release my last breath. I hope that it’s you holding my hand and greeting me with that beautiful smile of yours.
I love you Hannah,