Month 2; 2 Butterflies and Counting

Lately, I go back to her last fleeting moments of life and think of what I could have done differently. I go back to her sunken, cold cheek with mine against hers. At the time, I thought it was wet with mine and my sister's tears; later I found it was for a more morbid reason. In my thought, I shake her awake instead of telling her it is okay to go. I scream for a doctor instead of pushing them away.

I daily regret my presence in that room that left me with memories that haunt my dreams, while wishing terribly that I could return for one last kiss before she disappears.

I find myself, nightly, in the fetal position with an intense twinge in my abdomine though I spend much time on the bathroom floor, wet with tears, holding my head to keep it from crashing.

When I am with my family I am quite literally screaming to myself, telling them that everything inside is slowly fading to oblivion. "I AM DYING IN HERE TO TELL YOU THAT I ACHE IN REMEMBRANCE! CANT YOU HEAR THE PAIN ECHOING, FILLING THIS ENTIRE ROOM! IS ANYONE LISTENING!"
No one is listening, no one is noticing.

Instead, I jokingly say "Do you think Grandmother will mind if I borrow this?" People find it insensitive, yet humorous, like myself.