Posted by: chlost | February 12, 2012

It’s just another day

Two years ago today, my world was changed forever. I lost my loving friend, sister, and confidante. The world lost a beautiful voice, a mother, a wife, a friend.

My youngest sister died two years ago today.

Tomorrow would have been her 52nd birthday. She never turned 50. She will never be an old lady.

Please think twice before you complain about how old you are at each birthday. Every birthday is special, each should be celebrated whole-heartedly.

It amazes me that the past two years have simultaneously gone so quickly that it feels like just yesterday that I got the phone call, and yet it also seems to have been so long ago.

My nephew is sixteen now. I contacted him this morning, asking how his day is going. A simple response from him:  “good”.

Again, how can that response be simultaneously a relief and a worry? I am relieved that he seems to be doing well; I am worried that a teenager who witnessed all of the chaos of his mother’s sudden death seems so unaffected by it just two years later?

My mother has not referred to it. I wonder if she realizes the significance of the day, or if she is choosing to ignore it. So I think to myself, “Should I bring it up and upset her, or just let her ignore it if that is what she wants to do?” I haven’t brought it up. I asked what she wanted to do today, and she thought maybe we could go to a movie.

My sister, brother and I have been discussing our sadness and how much we have missed her every day of this past two years. I seriously considered making the four-hour drive to the cemetery today. My husband is working today and was worried about me driving that trip by myself. So I am not. But I am making the visit in my head.

I’m planning to do a little shopping today……I think that would make her happy. She loved to shop, and she often bought things for me to wear. My wardrobe is a bit hopeless. To say the least.

So, two years later, life goes on. Different. Much emptier. But moving forward nonetheless.

That’s just life, I guess.

Enjoy your day……….please.

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Responses

  1. You bet I will try. I’m a bit coldish and it’s spreading, but I’m smiling cause I’m still here.

  2. A sweet and heartfelt reminder that does real honor to your sister’s memory. I’ll try my best.

  3. How lovely this is!!!!!!!!

  4. *hugs*

  5. I am so sorry for your pain. The loss of a sibling is just so darn hard to take.

  6. I know what you’re saying. Four years now since my diagnosis of cancer. Two friends of mine have died from cancer in those 4 years. I’ve outlived my dad who died from cancer by 5 years. Everyday is a gift…It is easy to forget that sometimes. On the days when that seems hard to remember, I think about what I am grateful for, or what beauty I saw in the day…

  7. Each and every day is a gift – to be celebrated with joy. Every day that my eyes open is a good one. I am so sorry for your loss -I hope that your nephew truly is doing well, and not just being stoic.

    Hugs to you, friend.

  8. Thank you for the restrained but very firm reminder of how effing lucky we all are. I try to live that way every day, but the perspective you lend here is very powerful. You know I’m so sorry for your loss–in a way more full of feeling than those words can convey. I have a sister, so I imagine her death, and I can almost not type.

    I am so. sorry.

  9. The best way to honor the memory of your sister is to live each day as fully as you can.

    Also, remember she has moved on to a wonderful new life of adventure, so would want you to make an adventure of the life you have here.

  10. I have a similar reaction each year on anniversary of my brother’s death 11 years ago. At 23, he didn’t get to be even a young man for long. No marriage, no kids, no career… I am keenly aware of all the gifts in my life.

  11. Beautifully written and very powerful. I am so sorry for your continuing loss. I feel the same about my mother. One part wishes the pain would go away, the other part is fearful that if that happens the memories will be less sharp, and one will lose the person even more.

    I feel that we owe it to those who are not here but would wish to go on living, to live our lives to the very best of our ability. A friend lost both her boys to muscular dystrophy: at the time I felt guilty for being here when they were not. But to live well is the best tribute we can give our dear, lost ones. ((((Big hugs))))


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