Apparently, this significant anniversary of my sister’s death is going to be more problematic than typical years. It’s been two weeks, and things aren’t improving. The nightmares are still happening, the flashbacks are still interrupting my day, and the desperation is still a constant thought. I will bring this to my therapist tomorrow, but tonight it’s overwhelming me. I’m not sure what to do with the intensity of the emotions, and I’m not sure how to deal with the fact that they are lasting this long. The black and white answer is that I simply endure. One foot in front of the other, as I told a very depressed friend recently. Easier said than done.
With this tip of the scale, my sister’s death seems more significant than her life. She lived twelve years; she has been dead for thirteen. It’s like my worst fear realised– her death has been a fact longer than her life. She feels so far away. It’s like her existence is fading. Like her energy has dissipated beyond existence. I don’t know what happens after we die, but I’ve always hoped that at least *some* version of ourselves lives on. But for how long? When is that essence gone? Does it even exist in the first place? While the scale was tipped in the ‘positive’ side, I seemed to retain some hope in my sister’s life. Now, it feels like she is lost forever in every form possible. It’s like she went from an entity to an apparition, all with one slide of a balance.
I just want to hold on to some part of her, but that feels impossible now. Perhaps it’s false hope finally breaking. Whatever it is, though, I just hope it leaves some small piece of her behind. Right now, it feels like I’m losing her all over again, and I don’t think I can take that loss. Twelve years was so very short, and thirteen so very long.