Sisters...

She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway. She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink. Some days, she is the reason you wish you were an only child. ~Barbara Alpert

I have thought a lot about this. I’ve tried to come up with any other way but this to describe it to those around me, because I know that it must be terribly difficult to understand. My sister is dead. She died a couple years ago. I haven’t seen her since. Her body is still here, her mind, well that’s debatable. But the sister that I knew, loved, and constantly bickered with because we had the same shoe size, she’s not here anymore. Drugs killed my sister.

Oh, there’s a shell, there’s proof every once and awhile that she was real and that I didn’t imagine her, but she doesn’t even still have the same memories that I do. I remember sitting on the front cement stairs, sun beating down around us, sticky vanilla ice cream melting down all over us. She doesn’t remember that. I remember the day I brought up a memory that had been one of her favorites, something she had always brought up every time we went on a trip down memory lane and she didn’t know what I was talking about. I remember I laughed, thinking she must be joking around with me, until I looked up and saw the confusion on her face and realized that no, she really didn’t remember anymore.

How do you mourn the death of someone you loved so dear when there are still some small reminders of who they once were? When she laughs with everything she has, I see who she once was. Everything else is different. We don’t fight anymore. I can’t believe I miss bickering. If only we could go back to the days when pulling hair and throwing things at each other could make everything alright. Her hugs have changed. Her eyes have changed. She hurts those she loves, maybe because she can’t seem to love herself.

Each time I see a glimmer of what she once was, something in my heart explodes with hope. I wish I could turn it off some days, because it is not often very long before something happens to prove to me that she is still out of control. She’ll steal something from her family, she’ll have a fit so huge you’d never believe it came out of one person, and then she’ll call you to the dirt for confronting her with doing something wrong.

So how do you live your life with a life size reminder of what you’ve lost? I’ve lost a sister. I’ve lost that connection that comes with having grown up the same way. The same base experiences. I’ve lost that silent camaraderie that comes with having a sister. Just in the most basic sense of the word. I haven’t quite figured that one out yet. All I know is that some days hearing her laugh fills me with joy, and other days, it fills me with sadness. Some days I could kill just to hug her, only to do so and realize that she doesn’t know how receive my love anymore. In these moments I mourn her more than ever.

Dave Matthews- Sisters