One year ago today you went home to be with God and it’s taken me this long to work up the nerve to write this letter to you. The last time we spoke was 2 months prior to you passing. The conversation was a petty argument that spiraled way out of control. I always felt you had such a strong attitude and I wasn’t willing to back down from making my point. Looking back and knowing what I know now, it’s painful to know that we didn’t reconcile before you took your last breath. It’s a regret I have to live with everyday.
So many people would say we were twins. I, on the other hand, would tell people we were oil and vinegar, we didn’t mix. We never saw things the same way but I think that’s what made the dynamic of our relationship so unique. Although we could never agree on anything and we bickered so much, I can never think of a time in my life that you spoke down to me. No matter how heated our arguments were, you never insulted me or called me out of my name. My entire life you always made me feel special. You encouraged me to be God-fearing and unafraid to use my gifts. For that I’ll always be grateful.
Selfishly, I cry when I think about all the moments in my life that you won’t be here for. My wedding day; my first child; my big break. You always made a big deal out of everything I accomplished and snapped a million annoying pictures of me. It’s hard to believe that I’ll never experience you doing that anymore.
Even though I acknowledged you as my older sister, I’m not sure I ever learned the importance of acknowledging as a woman. A woman who had her own dreams and goals. A woman who loved hard and would made mistakes. A woman who, unlike me, could forgive people time and time again and show them a love they probably didn’t deserve. As I typed your obituary, I truly realized your life was cut short before people, including myself, could really understand these things about you. You were not only a one in a million sister, but a one in a million woman, flaws and all.
At your funeral, the funeral home director asked me to help lower you into your casket. That was the scariest and loneliest moment of my entire life. The sight of your lifeless body slowly lowering and disappearing from sight is burned into my memory. The pain I felt watching this happen, is burned in my heart. Its a thought and a feeling that I have not been able to shake. Maybe that pain is my punishment. The consequence of not being a better brother to you. The consequence of holding a grudge a second too long. Whatever it is, it’s a weight that I will carry for the rest of my life.
I have no idea if I understand what it means to grieve or if I started the process. I do know that I am angry. I am angry that you’re gone. I’m angry that you left me way too soon. I’m angry that I didn’t treat you as well as you did me. I’m angry at what your death has done to our family. I’m angry I can’t call you for cooking advice anymore. I’m angry that I didn’t get to speak to you or hug you one last time before you left this earth. But, despite all that, I am happy that you are at rest. I’m happy that whatever pain you carried in your physical form, your spirit did not take with it. I pray every day that you’re resting easy and that you continue to watch over us sending us your love and forgiveness. I hope that until we meet again, each day apart gets a little easier. I hope that I make you proud.
Rest in Heavenly Paradise Big Sis!