If Tomorrow Never Comes

I'm sitting in bed in the motel in small town, middle of no-where Washington with the deadbolt locked and the chain latched. Hilton doesn't exactly extend their chain up here. This is soooo the place I'd call my sister and tell her where I was and how middle of no-where and slum-like it feels. And she'd laugh and tell me what a spoiled city girl I am and we'd compare her small town life to my city girl lifestyle.

Tonight is different. I'm here in this small, middle of nowhere town to say goodbye. We're burying Cyl tomorrow. All I can think is if I don't go to sleep, then tomorrow won't really come. Right?

The week has been insane and illogical. Our mother left our father off the obituary. She had her current husband call and tell our father not to come to the funeral and threatened to call the police if he comes. After 30+ years of divorce my mother cannot stop the hatred. She cannot think beyond herself. For Cylvia.

Its been 6 days since my sister died. I was just wrapping my head around the idea that I can't pick up the phone and call her. I can't text her pictures. I can't get mad at her anymore. I can't laugh until my stomach hurts with her anymore. I can't take roadtrips where we both intake too much caffeine anymore.

Tomorrow I will dress in black. My jewelry and eyeshadow will be purple, my Cyl's favorite color. And I will cry. And I will smile. And I will say goodbye. And lay my sister to rest.