7th Heaven

Seven years. 

It's been that long since anyone has heard your contagious laugh, listened to your smart remarks, or been subjected to your bad jokes. It seems like an eternity. I actually closed my eyes this morning to make sure that I still remembered what your face looked like and what your laugh sounded like. 

So much has happened since you've been gone. You now have two nieces that you have and will

never meet. Raleigh Etta Brode was born on June 14th almost two years ago. Your beloved Blackberry has long been replaced by smartphones (Samsung and iPhone are neck and neck in this race), making social media like Twitter as easy as touching the home screen of your phone. 

Ingles no longer has a video department, now you stream movies through one of about 20 devices such as the Amazon fire stick, Apple TV, or a Roku. Not that you would care much, but now you can order groceries on line and have them loaded into your car (game changer for me). We use Keurigs to make coffee now. Instant Pots have replaced Crock Pots. You Tube has become the best entertainment since Atari. Bob Ross has made a comeback, along with many of the sitcoms from my time, Friends, The Office, etc. Cars come standard with back up cameras and most come with navigation. You can no longer drive and talk on your phone due to the Hands Free Law that went into effect last year. Your dad just sold his beloved boat and plans to buy an RV (I'm sure you would have LOVED this). Sophie is in the double digits and Reagan is about to be a driver (wrap your head around that). 

Of course, these are all things I am sure that you know but I could not wrap my head around the fact that you have been gone that long. Long enough for the world to move on to whole new era. One of which I think you would have enjoyed. 

The seven year anniversary of your death brought to mind the show that you and mom loved watching together every Monday (?) night, 7th Heaven. You two would always make a production of watching this show every week, curled up on the couch in the first family room. The show always started with this terrible intro song that you would sing along to at the TOP of your lungs. Everyone in the house knew when the show started because of the horrible singing along to the intro that you did. As if this incredible display of shrieking throughout the house was not enough, you would run, full speed, down the hallway and throw open my door and scream "7th HEAVEN" as loud and as obnoxiously as you could. I would shout back at you "close the door" or "go away" or "MOM!", none of which worked of course. A few times, I got up and ran after you. You would almost always trip on the ONE stair in the hallway leading away from my room and I would tackle you and try to cover your mouth. We must have been quite a sight to see for anyone witnessing this display of sibling dynamic, which could have been any of my friends or the current boyfriend. I would release you eventually and we would retreat to our respective places, me to my room, you to the couch and we would remain somewhat cordial until the same time the following week. 

I have never been so thrilled to see a TV show get cancelled as I was that one. 

I woke up this morning thinking about that song and the annoying little sister that sang it and wished so badly that I could have you throw open my door and burst out in song just one more time. Unfortunately, I will have to be satisfied with the vivid memory and a You Tube replay instead. 

Happy 7th Heaven Birthday, Little Sister. 

Where has the time gone...and the memories.

I've been thinking all day...if not, all week on how to address today. Should I ignore it? Should I go over the top to acknowledge it? I decided to let the day speak for itself and guide me where I needed to be.


You want to know where I landed? No where near Chelsea Kiessling. I actually woke up this morning thinking about work. When my split second thought of work was done I thought about my kids. The baby in particular, and how she needed her last dose of antibiotics. I then thought about what I would dress the kids in today because it was a chilly morning but was supposed to warm up later. The next thing I thought of was to check if I had gotten a reply to my work email that I had sent out the day before. After that, I thought about what time the Home Depot Kids Workshop started and if I should get in the shower.....


Does this make me a horrid person? The fact that 13 or more other thoughts floated through my brain before I came to the conclusion that today marked six years since the worst day of our family's lives?


I can't even explain the feeling that today brought. More like a mixture of guilt and relief, knowing that I didn't wake up with the pain of the memory of the night that you died on my mind but that I didn't think of that night at all.


I then went to Twitter. Your last tweet was a complaint about being bored and having nothing to do. The tweet before that was about Fish McBites....(nothing more to say here). I just thought it was interesting that the last thought on you mind the night you died was how little there was to do....whereas my life, right now, is quite the opposite...and I feel guilty for it.





I read all of the posts to you today about how you're missed and continue to be remembered and what not. One thing in particular stood out to me from people's posts. It's your laugh. People LOVED your laugh. I've heard described so many ways but contagious and sincere were two descriptions that continue to come up.


It's been a really difficult day for me because I just can't seem to feel anything. Not sad, glad, mad, or anything in between and I really think it is because my life has me completely distracted at this point. I know sitting through the dinner and Summer's concert last week got to me so I am not sure if that just took everything I had out of me or what...


So on this day, the 6th year anniversary of the worst day ever, I decided to pull your best Tweets, just so we can laugh with you....











It's the little things in life that I realize every time I read your tweets or FB comments that I miss you soooooo much. I wonder often how you would feel about having 5 nieces and how you interact with each of them.


Instead we will live through your tweets...never been so happy about social media.






(I have photos of this)

(showed this to Reagan....she's not surprised)