A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost.
For those of you that have siblings, I am sure that you can agree that the most memorable parts of your childhood were those that were shared with your brothers and sisters. Lately, for me, my childhood memories seem difficult to recall. I am usually not a very sharing person when it comes to deep down, personal issues, however, it seems that the recenty, the later and darker it gets, my mind becomes less idle and more occupied with thoughts that I have somehow avoided for the last six months.
Earlier this year, my sister commited suicide. My free-spirted, kind hearted yet hard headed, beautiful sister. The life that she had will never be hers again. I have mostly avoided dealing with what she did, so much so that I could not even cry at her service. Today I read that a nine year old boy was recently hit by a truck and killed and I instantly started crying-and I do not even know the child. The thing that bothered me so badly about the child's death was the part of the obituary that listed who the deceased are survived by. My sister's funeral did not give me comfort, and now parts of it are biting at me...specifically the part where my name was announced as one of her survivors. I had hoped that eventually, I would just wake up and come to terms with what happened without having to "deal with it" but unfortunately, the real change is that the shock of her loss is finally wearing off and the underlying and unwelcomed feelings of grief are trying to push through.
Last night I dreamt of a Barbie, a Barbie that had hung herself. Barbies were always a favorite of ours when we were younger girls. The way that the mind works really puts me at a loss for words. What a horrific twist on one of my most fond memories of her.
