May 22, 2012.

I’ve tried to write this “story” more times that I’d like to admit over the last eight years. Each time I’d sit down to put pen to paper— the pages would become soaked and the words would end up washed away by my own tears. I guess you could say that I’ve finally I’ve mustered up strength to recount this night, and the days preceding mainly in a hope to work through my abyss memories trapped inside my mind. So here goes nothing— or perhaps my everything.

This goes without saying but the day my sister died apart of my soul died right along side of her and the orbit of my world stopped. Two thousand nine hundred and twenty two days have come and gone since she left and there hasn't been a day since that I haven't felt the ache of her loss. I know that I am just one tiny person in this giant world of those who've lost a loved one. Countless others have lost sisters, brothers, parents, children.. I don't think I'm special for this loss and I'd never want my expression to be taken as such.

Maybe it's because I'm so vocal or shamefully too open, but this loss is something I'm sure many feel I bring up too often. Perhaps it's just because it's an uncomfortable topic, or that it looks as if I'm seeking attention.. though I promise my heart has never had that intention. I’d like to say it’s just the only way I’ve been able to navigate through the drowning grief that’s seemingly become the norm for me. And my own stumbling way of trying to bring some good out of this in the form of expression.

I've spent more days than not since May 22, 2012 trying to grasp the events surrounding Brittney's death— attempting to put back the puzzle pieces of my already twisted existence.

I was seventeen at the time and the days leading up were probably some of the happiest I'd experienced, at the time. I was young and in a whirlwind newer relationship; falling in love at the same time, so maybe everything in the world just seemed—brighter.

Brittney had only been back living at home with us for about a month at the time, and what an indescribably beautiful month had it been. It was no secret to those close to us, or even really a secret in such a small town that Brittney had been through the ringer, wasn't always dealt the best hand and certainly didn't always make the most educated decisions. Through the troubled years of her teens our relationship within our family dynamic was tested. Some years you could even say there were often more tumultuous days than not. But no matter what Brittney and I had personally been through she had always been my everything. I remember even at such at a young age wanting to impress her, before I've could've even defined the word. She was always perfect in my eyes.

And within those final days I wholeheartedly felt she was everything I strived to be in life.

She was unapologetically herself; a grade A badass, as she would say.

We spent that weekend before that fateful Tuesday laughing so hard that I think we turned heads all over town as we drove ourselves in dad's jeep; top down and doors off. On Friday we ran errands all evening because I was having friends over on Saturday, as my seventeenth birthday was on that Monday. As we pulled into the parking lots of several stores, each time we somehow lucked out with a front row parking spot that we slyly pulled into every time. Brittney kept making the joke "they must know it's your birthday."

And to this day I still smile and chuckle to myself every-time I get a pull through-front row parking spot and say to myself "they must know it's my birthday."

At the time I remember how much I enjoyed myself that weekend, but even more so now I just am beyond thankful that I'm blessed with such a vivid memory, even if looking back now I see that it'd come to haunt me as the next couple of days unfolded.

Like I said, Monday came and it was my birthday. I had spent everyday up until then counting down the days; literally I remember specifically there was a kid in my algebra class that I would tell everyday how many days were left for months leading up; I'm sure he doesn't remember.. because any sane person wouldn't; but I of course, remember.

I claimed the whole week was my "birfweek" and planned some silly celebration for myself for each day. Seventeen isn't even a "monumental" birthday but I had always treated my birthday as a national holiday— partly because Brittney always did too.

It's so comforting looking back now because no matter if Brittney was permanently living with us at the time or not, she had always managed to be home on my birthday. Every year, for as far back as I can remember she would wake me up with breakfast in bed. Usually a giant glass of chocolate milk, chocolate chip pancakes, eggs and sausage; every year. My seventeenth birthday was no different. There she was at 6am, bursting through my door with a giant smile singing "Happy Birthday." I'd give anything to hear that tone deaf voice singing in my ear once again.

After school that day I came home and she was ready to go. We jumped in the Jeep and headed to this store in town because my birthday money was already burning a hole in my pocket. I’d been eyeing a Vera Bradley bag and Brittney was in my ear echoing “treat yourself,” so that is what I did. I was taking too long to make a decision and she was itching to get out of such a “girly” store, so she grabbed the purse she knew I really wanted, but was a bit short on cash for; pointed to the print she liked and said “shut up I’ll pay the difference if you get the one I hate the least. Happy Birthday you shithead.” So out the door I strutted in my fancy new purse— cheesy grin in tow. Back in the Jeep we went, Kelly Clarkson’s “Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You) jamming with me in the passenger seat mortifying her with my aggressive dance moves. We drove through our little downtown and were stopped at the red light that sat out front of my mom’s office. We blared the radio as we shook the Jeep with our bodies and hollered for our mom to look up from her desk. I’m sure anyone downtown was looking too; but we had no care in the world.

We swung into Chilly Jilly’s— a Sidney staple ice cream shop and a birthday must have, dance moves on deck as we made it through the drive through with  Goo Goo Dolls filling the cars of those around us too. Brittney got me my go to cotton candy in a waffle cone—which had never tasted better and she was straight cheesing over her vanilla milkshake.

•Years later I’d be crying over this day to my best friend and before I could even describe this memory, she was recounting it for me. She had worked at Chilly Jilly’s and she remembered that day. We were friends at the time, but sadly didn’t become constants in each other’s lives until years later. The fact that she remembered what to most would’ve just been considered as two annoying girls causing a scene in the drive through was enough to withhold a place in her memories just goes to show either the impact Brittney’s presence had on those around her; or just that Jordi is just made to be my family— I’d like to say it’s a combination of both.

Anyways, we continued our shenanigans around town and as Fun’s “We Are Young” rang over our ears, Brittney turned down the radio after hearing “my friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the Empire State” to chuckle and state that lyric described me and would presumably be what I would do if my friends were out getting high. I just laughed back at her and she tried to reiterate “you’ve never smoked weed, right?” I told her that I had and her laugh cut off like a blown fuse and her transition to yelling at me kicked in instantly. I stopped her with just my laugh and told her I was just joking. Big sister mode kicked back up and she gave me grief for stressing her and continued to say that she didn’t want me to smoke or get into anything, because according to her I was “better than her” and she didn’t want me to go down the same path she’d taken. I tried to playfully brush her off and tried to get her to stop giving herself such a hard time. But she didn’t drop it that easily and asked me to promise her that I wouldn’t ever smoke weed. We locked pinkies and I made her that promise. So here I am at 24 years of age and I’ve kept that promise ever since. Maybe trivial to some seeing as I was 17 at the time and just trying to please my big sister, but it was the last thing I’d ever promise her. I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint her to this day and it’s something I can connect with her to. It’s my promise to her and one of the few things left I have to hold onto.

Away we went to sing “Iris” at the top of our lungs on the back porch of our house, as mom strolled through the gate laughing at our antics. We probably played that song 15 times that day; along with the rest of the Goo Goo Dolls collection.

The rest of the evening was spent at Logan’s Roadhouse as a family. Of course Brittney made a point to hunt down the waitress and ensure the staff stopped what they were doing in order to sing yet another rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

As we made the 20 minute drive back to Sidney from a neighboring town where the restaurant was Brittney asked to be dropped off at a hotel in town where one of her friends was having a party because it was his birthday, too. I’m not sure if it was due to the commotion of the six different voices in the car talking over top of each or what, but Dad missed the exit in town that would’ve brought us to that hotel. Brittney got upset and thought it was intentional, so after a nice little tiff I was told her it’s no big deal I can drive you over there as soon as we get back home. Once we arrived home I ran in use the restroom but by the time I got out she was gone. My boyfriend at the time stated she decided to start walking. I shook my head, half in annoyance and half a chuckle because it was the most Brittney thing to do. She walked everywhere just for fun, clarity and sometimes like now— with a mission in mind. I knew her route so I took off in the Jeep after her. As I spotted her up ahead I switched my iPod to start blasting Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend” as I approached her because that was her current go-to jam. I could see her break a smile before I’d even pulled into the parking lot in front of her. She smacked me in the head as she flung herself in the backseat. We didn’t skip a beat and kept the Jeep rocking as we sung as loud as we could. We pulled into the hotel parking lot and just laughed at how ridiculous we knew we were. She leaned up into the front seat and kissed me on the cheek. As she jumped over the back tire and onto the concrete she screamed “Happy Birthday Ally, I LOVE YOU” and I hollered back and drove off.

What a way to end my birthday. And there’s never been a birthday since that hasn’t hurt every part of my heart, wishing I could somehow rewind time and only live that birthday over and over again.

I wish I knew that’d be the end. I wish I could have seen into her mind in that moment. I wish I could have hugged her longer. I wish I never left that parking lot. But wishing will get me nowhere and that will forever be the last moment I spent with her.

I still cry every time I’m back home and I pass that hotel. I still hold my breath when I pass the parking lot I picked her up in. Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend” always causes an ache so deep in my heart, with a side of a smile.

The next day came and I had zero clue that my world would feel as if it was over by the end of the night. Brittney was still with her friends and I spent the day at school. Afterwards I went over to my boyfriends house and didn’t make it back home until 9pm or so; and when I did, I headed straight for bed. I laid down and placed my purple slide up cell phone under my pillow and waited for sleep to greet me; but it never would that night.

Just as I was drifting off, my phone rang. I knew the contact name but was instantly confused as to why they were calling. Something was just off, I felt that as I said hello. The girl on the other line somewhat calmly just asked, as if it was a nonchalant thing for her, if I knew where Brittney was. Instantly confused I told her I wasn’t exactly sure because I hadn’t seen her that day, but thought my mom had said she was out with friends. She seemingly accepted that answer and we got off the phone. I tried to lay back down, halfway thinking about the call and halfway just tired and confused. Then my phone rang again and this time a different contact name appeared but one still that brought the same confusion. I again answered with a hello, and she asked also if I had spoke to Brittney—I told her no. Her response was that I should probably try and call her and get ahold of her. I begin to feel angry at all these inquiries and not understanding where they were coming from. I tried to pry and ask why it mattered or where this was coming from but she didn’t give up much and said that everything was fine but I should try.

Everything was far from fine.

I sat up and began to pace just trying to wrap my head around what was happening and thinking of a way to get ahold of Brittney because I knew she didn’t have a cellphone currently. As my mind raced and panic spread through me, the first caller rang again and I was fuming and terrified at this point. I began to run down the stairs in my house just trying to move and process what I was thinking. The girl on the other end of the phone began to ask, “does Brittney have a tattoo on her lower arm?” I started screaming “yes why WHY WHY.” The phone switched and the callers mom picked up the phone and just began trying to tell me to calm down and breathe. Who was this woman and why was she telling me to calm down? What’s going on with my sister? Why are you asking these questions? The next words she spoke instantly brought my body slamming down onto the cold hardwood, “someone has been hit by a train and they think it’s your sister.” I began crawling from the dining room to my parents bedroom across the house. As I reached my mom’s side of the bed I tried to wake her, and the frantic tendencies kicked in and I was shaking her, “mom can you wake you up, mom somethings wrong” and as she began to gain consciousness from her sleep I was trying to form the words to say, “mom I think something’s happened, I think Brittney is dead. I think Brittney’s been hit by a train. That’s what’s they are saying on the phone. Help.” She sits up almost angrily telling me they don’t know what they’re talking about, kids are just being mean and playing a cruel prank on you.” I start to go into more depth and tell about the tattoo comment and I can see things beginning to click in her eyes. At the same time my dad is getting up and he’s trying to calm us down; he gets up and walks to his phone. My dad was a firefighter at the time— he starts to dial and the only words to escape his mouth is, “is it her” and he drops his phone, grabs my mom and I in a giant bear hug as he flings his body onto us.

We knew.

The blood curdling scream that escaped my mom’s lips still haunt me in my nightmares about once a week. Her sobs felt like they were shaking the house, all the cries and grasps were bleeding into one another and my body ached. I couldn’t lay there and listen to the sound of my mom losing her child. I took off running and only made it to our backyard before I collapsed on the concrete.

I could continue to describe the events that followed through that night and into the following days, but I guess I’m just not there. Maybe I’ll get there someday, but today isn’t that day— at least not in such a public of a manner just yet. Not that there’s too many out there to even care to hear all of this, but those 440 friend requests I’d received on Facebook, I’m sure wanted to hear all of this at the time, in the heat of the moment.

All the following days and details just reiterate what goes without saying— a lifelong nightmare began and Brittney was gone. Even writing this now it still feels so unreal to a degree. How within a 48 hour time frame did my world shift from my crazy ass sister waking me up on my birthday with a smile bigger than you could imagine; to her death greeting her by suicide.

It just goes to show how you never know. It could be the happiest person, the brightest light you’ve ever seen, and yet the pain within them could be greater than others could ever grasp.

I have a screenshot I took from Facebook in the days following where someone wrote about how she died by suicide and another’s response was “I just don’t believe it, Brittney Kittle would never. It has to be a horrible accident.” It was horrible alright, but it was devastatingly true. The demons were there and not many knew.

Since she’s left me, suicide has seemed to spread around me in other waves and I’ve felt the devastation and pain that accompanies what they call suicide survivors in so many heartbreaking ways. The friend who shares a birthday me, who I dropped Brittney off with that night— he’s gone too now.

My birthday and the day after somehow went from a beautiful day to a hell on earth. The demons that are depression and a skew of other mental health issues have rocked my world and countless others in the worst ways. It’s heartbreaking and it’s my reality. It’s uncomfortable to hear; unfathomable to some and far too real for others.

Who I am as a person shifted that day, and that seventeen year old who I was—for 24 hours was gone within a instant.

I know that I as a person don’t make sense to a lot of people. I’m different, a little weird and often, too much to handle. Maybe it’s the combination of how I’m wired, the makeup of my heart or just the way I’ve put the pieces of myself back together, like a puzzle without all the pieces... this is just what you get.

I’m not special. I’m not the only one to have felt this pain and I won’t be the last. But I’d like to think some kind of awareness might help someone out there, to even a small degree. And if that’s the case, my vulnerability and annoyance to the world is fine by me. My self degrading would be worth it, in some twisted sense.

So yes, I’ll spend forever talking about Brittney. I’ll tell her story to the best of my ability, along with spreading a fraction of the joy that she did. I may be broken, but I’m surviving and sometimes that all you can do.

I love you, Brittney.