I have meditated on death for a long time now. Sometimes to the chagrin of some who deemed it unhealthy dwelling. My stages of grief were long and arduous to me and those close to me. I didn’t dwell so much as much as try to grapple with its meaning. We were hyphenated and without her I did not know anymore how to simply ‘be’.
For years I failed to cognitively absorb the finality of it all. I took turns sputtering on, resisting and giving in completely. I clung on to every shred of familiar past, every chance I could hold on to her memory, and the more I did the more any semblance of it slipped away. It was the single most monumental, defining period of my life – the slide of my family’s idyllic existence coming crashing down in slow motion over seven painful years to its resounding silent end.
Through heavy heartbroken tears and listless silences, long pauses of fractured bonds I hobbled along on a lost path. I desperately missed belonging to her and her to me – our lives were meant to be entwined like branches of a sturdy majestic tree with rugged roots in the earth, sharing in each other’s past, present and future. Our stories, our days and lives were always woven into each other’s. She was younger to me but in many ways my guardian. I felt safe with her, protected and I knew she’d always have my back like I would, an unspoken rule, a bond between sisters. And so, it would be with our future, sharing in each other’s dreams, joys and sorrows and always with each other every step of the way.
I’ve had a complicated relationship with the month of April. At least for 15 years now since her last breath. On the one hand I love the smell of spring in the air, of hope and promise, of virgin green shoots emerging from the earth, of dirt in my hands and birdsongs and skies opening up like curtains shutting out dreary winters giving way to warm sun and joy. Not surprisingly it is the month celebrating poetry.
On the other hand, it has been her casket, the month that swallowed my sister forever. I lost her here fifteen years ago today. And I can never forgive or forget. I know my anger to be misguided but there it is, April 20th, marking the passing of another circle around the sun without her by my side.
And so, I slip into a strange reverie this month. You never stop grieving but there’s ebbs and flows and mine has morphed over time. I’m now grateful to April as it lets me surround myself with nature. I shut down in some ways to the outside noise, the outside world. She still belongs to me and I to her, but it took me a while to not feel as lonely as I did, as abandoned. I stopped searching everywhere else and I started listening. I listen now to life in the wilderness and spend hours and days in the woods. Out there the joy I find is the joy I’ve always known with her. Out there I finally feel like I once again belong because she’s with me. I don’t particularly care anymore how others view my life or my path. I embrace all its ugly and beautiful twists and turns, even the parts that took her away because it means I had her. In my own time at my own pace, I found solace in words, in nature, in rebirth and learning to let go.
Listen. Slide the weight from your shoulders and move forward. You are afraid you might forget, but you never will. You will forgive and remember – Barbara Kingsolver
Here’s a moment stolen, captured and preserved of my sister in her hey days – she will always be remembered, and forever cherished ❤️
