“Hey wifey!” The phrase that haunted Gigi. Now she wishes she would relive that moment more than anything. She wouldn’t tell me that it haunted her in that moment but I could see it in her eyes that it did. The day we found Marc. It was a real group effort. I have only witnessed Gigi become so innocent once. It was the day I flash back to more often than now than ever. The day with the man in the station wagon. The moment that would fast forward to the day she wore her yellow dress and put a rose on her mothers casket. That seems like it happened in another life.

The doctors didn’t think that Marc was strong enough to handle the treatments anymore. Gigi has never been one to step-down silently. She’s the one to make international news for what she believed in and serve some jail time. Maybe start a riot. In other words, be the daughter my mother would be proud of. But, there really wasn’t anything she could do besides make sure he was comfortable, calm and hold his hand. The moment he was taken off life support everything stopped. For a brief moment, he was breathing on his own. It was a shock to everyone including the doctors. Then, that moment slipped away and the machines started going crazy. Everything seems to have stayed in that moment, including Gigi. She didn’t even cry. She stood there stoically. I watched her and tried to hold her hand but she wouldn’t let me. She found her purse and got her sunglasses. Then, she vanished, walked through the swinging hospital doors into the blinding sun. 

After that she had a small funeral. She had a black veil that blocked everyone from seeing her face. Even I didn’t know if she hired a body double that day. After that she stopped traveling and went home. Bought the house her mother grew up in. There was a family living there but she paid for them to move and bought them a new house. She wanted to feel closer to the person she thought would give her the most advice. She made everything look like the pictures of her mom growing up. She wanted the stability that the pictures gave her.

She hasn’t left her bed. She has been hooked up to an IV because she won’t eat or drink anything. She only moves when she has to use the restroom. There was a point where they wanted to hook her up to a catheter. But when the nurse described how she inserted it, for a brief moment the old Gigi flashed in her eyes.

 I’m worried about her. Mom and I spoke about it this morning. Even she doesn’t know what to do and she “has the wisdom of making bad life decisions when she was younger.” Some things I just do not need to know. But she also asked me if I saw that boy’s eyes when Gigi was there. No, I didn’t I was just watching Gigi. Mom said that they lighted up when she entered the room and then a black cloud seemed to hang there when he seemed to process that she didn’t seem to feel the same way. But as we saw their relationship develop in that short time, their eyes matched. They looked really genuinely happy. 

“How am I supposed to go on without him?” She asked me a few days after the funeral. The hell if I knew. I had never had so much loss in my life. 

Instead, I told her she would know how she would go on. I wish I had happier news but it’s been a really dark time. I’m sure when Gigi feels up to it she’ll start to write again. It’s cathartic.