I don't want to write this

It's been a difficult start to the year. My sister suddenly passed away January 23rd. She was here having dinner, she had been fighting what she thought was bronchitis, and left around 7:30 with plans to go to her doctor the next morning for a referral to the lung doctor I had seen. She was chatting with my other sister on skype until about 10:30. at 4am, we got a call from the hospital, and when we got there, we learned she called 911 at 3:06 (from her cell phone records) she was speaking to the dispatcher while they were on their way and at one point either she dropped the phone, or the connection was lost. The firefighters reached her apartment less than a minute after last contact, and she was without vital signs. Those brave guys brought my sister back and transported her to the hospital. The police made sure the cats were ok, and locked up her apartment. We got to the hospital at 4:30, and were able to see her briefly in the ER. She was intubated, and twitching. We couldn't stay long as they were getting ready to move her to ICU. She went to ICU about 6:30. My two sisters and my mother were able to see her briefly. She never regained consciousness. At 8:30 we heard the first code blue. People ran to help, but quickly left. Then we heard the second code blue. At 8:45 the ER supervisor came and told us it did not look good. Just before 9, the doctor asked if we wanted to continue lifesaving treatments. We asked for one more round. He came back and said they just couldn't keep her heart going. Every time they stopped CPR and shocking her, she flatlined again. At this point, damage was done, and there was no more hope. We gave permission to stop CPR, we told them that she was an organ donor and we cried. I went numb... on autopilot. The next few weeks are truly a blur. Cleaning out the apartment, divvying up her things. It all felt like we were erasing her presence. And it hurt. Oh God it hurt.. hurts. As I type this on her laptop, It feels like we were vultures, picking over her possessions. We donated a lot of her stuff. Found a home for one of her cats. Sadly, the other one passed away waiting to be adopted. Another knife in the heart. I failed to help my sister.. and her baby. Finding out her secrets, picking through her life.. it all seems so callous. But it's necessary. Waiting or not doing anything does not bring her back, does not ease any pain, does not do anyone any good. There is still so much to do. Her taxes, her final good bye at the cemetery when the ground softens... the first dinner without her drunken ass being inappropriate. We fought, oh shit, how we fought. But as much as we fought each other, no one messed with the family. I would have said we didn't touch base often.. until she was gone and I found out how much we did connect. Through texts, messages, facebook and such, there was daily communication. And even now, I reach for my phone to text her something funny, something interesting or just to rant. And she's not there. I miss her so much. I want just one more moment to let her know that all the fights, all the bitching .. was because she was me and I was her.