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Four Months
Four months ago I received the worst call imaginable- I had lost one of my younger sisters. A month later I lost my home and most everything I owned to flooding. I sit here, wearing my sister's shoes, and think back on the baffling bit of turmoil that has been the recent bit of my life.
Every time I go home, the recent Thanksgiving holiday included, I help my mother go through another box or three of my sister's things. the flood was a mixed blessing, in that now we can go through everything with a reason. My sister's things have helped replace my own- from shoes to gloves to movies. It took away the harsh necessity of going through her things and turned it into a way for my parents to help a child that remained. My home is full of little bits of my sister. I am wiggling my toes in her shoes and wondering just how the hell we all ended up so muddled.
Thanksgiving was the first holiday without her. I laid my head on my remaining sister's shoulder in the car over to my uncles, very aware that there should be three of us. There was a smile missing- a bright laugh, hint of perfume and glint of jewelry. I didn't get to play Pokemon on the couch between meals, didn't get to geek not so quietly at fascinating intervals. We visited her grave site before the family dinner with relatives. There were tears, but I remain strangely disconnected from that aspect of it all.
I am more inclined to say a quiet 'thank you' as I slip on her shoes, to keep the framed picture of her and I she mailed me not too long ago on my altar (next to a picture of the three of us sisters when we were very young my remaining sister had made for us. A gift she died before she could receive).
My new home slowly fills with little parts of her life, slipping their way lovingly into my own. And I am so grateful for their presence, even as they occasionally make me twinge with bitter depression and a feeling of helplessness that can only come from not being there when I could have helped.
Everyone made their Thanksgiving posts, texted me to let me know they were thankful for my presence in their life. I am thankful that I got to spend as long as I did with that wonderful, damn fool of a sister of mine. I am thankful I had so many wonderful friends to hold me up when the unspeakable happened, to support me when my home was swallowed by the river. I am thankful for the sister that remains and my amazing family. So many wonderful things to be thankful for. But they took a lot of thinking about before I could spin them to words from raw feeling.
Every time I go home, the recent Thanksgiving holiday included, I help my mother go through another box or three of my sister's things. the flood was a mixed blessing, in that now we can go through everything with a reason. My sister's things have helped replace my own- from shoes to gloves to movies. It took away the harsh necessity of going through her things and turned it into a way for my parents to help a child that remained. My home is full of little bits of my sister. I am wiggling my toes in her shoes and wondering just how the hell we all ended up so muddled.
Thanksgiving was the first holiday without her. I laid my head on my remaining sister's shoulder in the car over to my uncles, very aware that there should be three of us. There was a smile missing- a bright laugh, hint of perfume and glint of jewelry. I didn't get to play Pokemon on the couch between meals, didn't get to geek not so quietly at fascinating intervals. We visited her grave site before the family dinner with relatives. There were tears, but I remain strangely disconnected from that aspect of it all.
I am more inclined to say a quiet 'thank you' as I slip on her shoes, to keep the framed picture of her and I she mailed me not too long ago on my altar (next to a picture of the three of us sisters when we were very young my remaining sister had made for us. A gift she died before she could receive).
My new home slowly fills with little parts of her life, slipping their way lovingly into my own. And I am so grateful for their presence, even as they occasionally make me twinge with bitter depression and a feeling of helplessness that can only come from not being there when I could have helped.
Everyone made their Thanksgiving posts, texted me to let me know they were thankful for my presence in their life. I am thankful that I got to spend as long as I did with that wonderful, damn fool of a sister of mine. I am thankful I had so many wonderful friends to hold me up when the unspeakable happened, to support me when my home was swallowed by the river. I am thankful for the sister that remains and my amazing family. So many wonderful things to be thankful for. But they took a lot of thinking about before I could spin them to words from raw feeling.