Regine's Book (34 page)

Regine and Eli Ann during their helicopter ride to RaumaRock, August 2009

It was an intense fifteen months, and it went quickly from total happiness to an almost incomprehensible sadness. It hurt so much when they told you that you didn't have much time left. But even though you were suffering, you managed to pull yourself together so that I could come and visit. I know it took a lot out of you.

I'll never forget the last evening you were alive. You were so exhausted, but still so brave. You managed to get out of bed and sit in the living room, but it wasn't long before you couldn't handle it anymore. We probably both knew that this was the last time we'd see each other. Even at the very end of your life, you were thinking of other people. The friendship necklace you gave me that night is the best gift I've ever gotten. It brings back so many memories; it reminds me of all the years we had together: all the great times, sad times, and close times. I'll carry them with me, and when I miss you, I'll think of them.

It was hard to see you get taken back to bed, and to hear you say that you felt like you were dying. Your pain was so visible. I gave you a hug and told you I loved you, painfully aware that this would be the last time I would see you alive.

You lay quietly in your bed, like I saw you doing the night before. But the pain had eased and the fear was gone. Finally you were getting some rest. We got to say things that needed to be said while you were still alive, and that conversation has helped me to deal with my sadness—although nothing could compensate for the loss of such a beautiful person and friend.

I love you so much, Regine. You'll always be my best friend, and you'll always have a totally special place in my heart! Whatever I do, I'll think of you, and I'll never stop wishing you were here. But we'll meet again one day, in a better place, without pain and sorrow. I
could talk for hours about how much you mean to me, Regine, but the inscription on the jewelry puts it best. Thank you, Regine.

Elise had lost her big sister. This is how she described missing her:

Dear Sister,

I was just thinking about everything that a sister means, everything that a sister gives to you. A sister offers support, love, understanding, and laughs; she's someone to argue with, someone you can lend clothes to, and someone to just hang out with. Those aren't things you can get from everyone, and no one can give you all of those things at once like a sister can. You gave a lot to me, Regine, and I gave back to you as well. We shared everything. Everything. It was us two. Big sister and little sister. Regine and Elise. And now that's gone forever. The word “never” is difficult to get your head around. I've tried. I've tested it out for a while now, but I've never managed to really understand it.

It's impossible to think that I'll never get to see you again. I would do anything to see your smile one last time, hear your happy laughter, or see your fed-up expression when I make a mess or when I just don't get something. You weren't supposed to leave me. Not yet. We were supposed to travel together. You were going to move to a big city after high school, and I was going to come and visit whenever I wanted. We were going to have kids at the same time, so that they also could be best friends. We were supposed to fight about the front seat in the car, and about who would get to have the attic room. We were supposed to get old together, and live next to each other in the nursing home. We were going to plan Mom's and Dad's funerals when that time came. Now I'll have to do it all myself. No more Regine. Ever. Still there were a lot of things you wanted me to experience, accomplish, and achieve. I made a lot of promises to you and you told me secrets that you didn't tell anyone else. It's a big thing for me to be the one carrying
your deepest secrets. Not even your best friends, just me. I'll keep my promises, and your secrets are so well hidden that no one will ever find them. Trust me.

Regine and Elise

I have a crystal clear memory of the day when the funeral home came to get you. It was late Sunday evening, and Mom and Dad had gone to bed a while ago. I was sitting in the living room with my computer on my lap, just like we used to do together. Before Dad went to bed, he turned off the TV and put the TV controller at the edge of the table. Of course I was so lazy that I didn't want to reach for it, so the TV was still off. Then with no warning it suddenly turned on, all by itself. MTV was on—your go-to channel. Not only that, but they were airing a show about Metallica—one of your favorite bands. I felt like it was you reaching out to me, so I kept the show on. Just like you to be a little smart-ass just like that—crossing the divide, via Metallica.

I pray to whomever's out there that there's a place where we can meet again. A place where we can laugh and be happy and just be together. I hope things are good where you are now. I want you to be happy. I want things to be good for you. I'm scared that place doesn't exist, and that you're totally gone. Where are you? Come back, come home again. We miss you; everyone misses you; I miss you. You'll always be my big sister, no matter what.

Love you forever, Regine.

With profound love and gratitude, Julianne wrote this to her beloved daughter Regine:

I'm sitting on Regine's bed with a cup of hot chocolate right now. Lasse and I just went on our daily visit to the gravesite and lit some candles for her there. It's below freezing outside and there's a lot of snow. I hope Regine doesn't feel this cold wherever she is now. She should be here with me, drinking hot chocolate, and working on her book release herself. Instead, I'm going to try to write a few words on my own. Publishing her blog as a book was one of her big dreams, and we promised we'd make it happen for her.

I've spent a lot of time in Regine's bed since she died. I cry out my sorrow, my loss, and my despair here. We've lost our dear daughter Regine, who was only eighteen years old. Sometimes our cat Josefine joins me here. I think she's sad, too. Josefine was a big part of Regine's life for eleven years, and they meant a lot to each other. Josefine was a real consolation to Regine during her illness, always faithfully rambling after her. The week before she died, Regine said that when Josefine died she wanted her to be buried alongside her at the gravesite. We'll see when the time comes—but if I know her
father, he'll make it happen. I think back on when Regine was born. She smiled for the first time when she was only a day old, and it wasn't because of colic if that's what some people are thinking. She was so beautiful that I couldn't stop looking at her. With big brown eyes and long curly eyelashes. Oh how I miss looking into those beautiful, wise, and warm eyes of hers. I look into them, in her picture by the bed, and feel my throat tighten before the tears come. It's so unbearable. A few days ago, I dreamt that I looked into her eyes and stroked her lovingly on the cheek before she laid her head next to mine. It was so vivid and comforting. It didn't last long, and I didn't dream anything before or after that; it was as if she came home to comfort me in that dream.

All her life, Regine continued smiling at the world. We even called her Sunshine! She was a quick learner and could count to ten when she was only twenty months old. Bubbly and full of life, Regine loved to work on dances, plays, and miming songs. I remember how hyper she would get when she had something to tell us; she couldn't stand still, and would stand there shifting from one foot to another and hopping on the floor. And, being the monkey that she was, she was also prone to climbing up between the doorframes with her feet planted on either side. I also remember now the presentation she made when we were in the country: Regine, with her incredible imagination, was going to impersonate the newscaster Traula. She dressed up in an oversized down jacket, with glasses that were way too big, and a green hat, and read the weather report. The forecast was for buckets of beer, and all the men were racing outside with their mouths wide open toward the sky (there was also soda rain and candy hail for the kids). And when she was seven years old, she sang along to the Bon Jovi song “It's My Life”—complete with the refrain “It's now or never. I ain't gonna live forever. I just wanna live while I'm alive.” I'm relieved now that we took videos and photos of those performances.

It wouldn't be hard for me to fill whole notebooks with more stories like this, with Regine always in the starring role. When she was around eleven or twelve, she became somewhat shy, and started to move behind the camera instead. She became interested in taking photos and making movies. She and her friends were particularly fond of making horror movies. They used to head to the forest, and with Regine behind the camera, they made such classics as
The City Witch Elvira
. Regine got help from her dad and edited it and added sound effects, and it turned out to be a really well-done movie.

Regine had just turned three when her little sister, Elise, was born, and I remember her first visit to the newborn unit. She was glowing with happiness when she held Elise in her arms and sang children's songs to her. My belly was still a bit big, and Regine wondered if there was another baby in there…Regine was never jealous of Elise and was a kind and caring big sister. Regine said that one of the worst things about dying was that she wouldn't be able to support Elise while she was a teenager, and that really says something about how much her sister meant to her.

I think I can honestly say that Regine was a truly
good
child. She was always happy, kind, full of understanding, fair, agreeable, and hardworking. But we got a surprise two days before Regine was due to start high school. She was out with her friends Eli Ann and Anne Marthe, and it was eleven at night. Her father called to find out where they were. Regine told him that they were out by the lake grilling fishcakes. Regine had trouble pronouncing the word “fishcakes,” and we realized they were drinking. We were shocked. Not in our wildest dreams could we imagine that our “angel,” who (we thought) could never do anything bad, could be out drinking with her friends. It turned into a big to-do, and we made it very clear how we felt. We could safely say that the “good child” period was over…Later, Regine told me that she'd been to a lot of parties after this, and that we never
noticed anything. I only believed good things about Regine, and that probably blinded me a bit.

After she'd been in high school for a while, she got a boyfriend, and we weren't very happy about that either. He was handsome—it didn't have anything to do with that—but he was also a bit older than she was, and he lived in a studio by himself. It probably lasted five months, and I was relieved when it was over.

After Regine got sick and died, though, I began to see things differently. Now I'm glad that she had the experience of being in love, going to parties, and having fun. She went on a language trip, and got to go to concerts and festivals with Eli Ann and Anne Marthe. She got to experience a lot before she got sick, and for that I'm glad; it was a consolation for Regine when she realized where things were heading. Regine talked about these memories a lot when she was sick.