30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 16 – I Miss…

Write about something that you miss.

 

This is going to be another depressing post because I miss my sister.

She died when I was four years old. She played football, the only girl of hundreds of boys. It was an accident during practice where she took a hard hit while her helmet didn’t fit right. The hit resulted in a head injury where her brain bled, and the doctors couldn’t save her in time. That was September of 2002… Almost fifteen years later and I’m plagued with the reality of grief and memory loss.

Because I was so young to begin with, I don’t remember much of her. I remember bits and pieces of her funeral: white clothing, her “sleeping form”, the cold touch. That’s what haunts me most, the moment where my skin cools to the point where it matches what hers felt like that last time I touched her hand. My mother tells me I kept asking to put a blanket over her because she was so cold.

I just…want some memories of her other than her dead body. I don’t remember the sound of her voice, and my family doesn’t talk about her much. My few memories are hazy and fragmented at best, and I fear of having to deal with the reality that they’ll all be gone.

The only things I find comfort in are knowing her spirit is in the house as long as we have her ashes and that I have a guardian angel on my side. She likes to mess with me, using technology to mess with music, she’ll open doors or knock down objects just to get me to laugh.

Other than that…it’s hard to think about her. Songs that remind me of her are the hardest to get through because all the pain comes to the surface, and sometimes I don’t have the strength to hold back tears anymore. Other times I have to because I’m with other people. Sometimes I put them on just to be able to cry and know I still can.

At this point, I’d settle for at least a good dream with her in it. Even for just a moment. The two dreams I’ve had in fifteen years have woken me up sobbing. In both, I have to watch her die again, and I couldn’t have been more haunted.

 

I’m sorry this was an emotional and somewhat detached post at the same time, but it was the only way I could do it without bawling in front of my boyfriend. I didn’t want to worry anyone. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I have to learn to be open about my feelings and the experiences in my life.

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