An ilomilo snuck in!
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An ilomilo snuck in!
what i would give to just talk and hold my sister’s hand again.
just for a minute.
tell her how much ive missed her since she went away.
how much i wish i could tell and show her what’s been happening the last 10 months.
how much i wish i could trade places with her.
how beautiful, loving, and fucking hilarious she was.
how badly i want her to come back but i know she isnt in pain anymore.
just for a minute.
one single minute to hold her hand and laugh with her again.
anything at all with her; one minute; 60 seconds to see her and hold her hand.
i miss her more than words could explain.
i think about you all the time
even when i don’t have a thought in my head, i think about you
will the surreal feeling of losing someone close to you, someone you love, someone you knew inside and out, and vice versa, ever go away?
since my little sister died life hasn’t felt real or bearable - except when im asleep.
i can’t believe she’s really dead and gone and I won’t see her again.
it doesn’t feel like she died, it just feels like she’s gone to one of her friends house’s and she’d be back in a few days.
since she died it’s like life has stopped and im waiting for her to come home and be her loud self and her making a mess that I have to clean up.
im forever waiting for the front door to open and slam shut and hear her complaining to someone on her phone while she loudly goes into her room.
when will that anticipation of her mannerisms ever stop gnawing at my brain?
when will it sink in that she’s not her anymore, that she’s dead, that she’s ashes now in an urn and some in a ring and necklace i wear all the time?
when will the pain of remembering she’s dead go away?
when will i stop thinking of her the moment I wake up and the moment before i fall asleep?
when will i stop my reflexes of wanting to share something i know she’d like on my phone?
when will i be able to listen to fall out boy and fidlar and gym class heroes and panic at the disco without breaking down into tears
i can’t even watch our favorite movies without crying
when will i stop being angry at her and myself for being so immature and stubborn and wanting to be right?
when will i feel okay talking about her in the past tense?
fidlar’s going on tour and the depression and sadness and anger and heartbreak and selfishness i felt because my sister will never get to see them live - we won’t ever see them together
that tiny fact broke my heart into a million pieces, again
i really hate this
grief is soul crushing
i have some of my sister’s ashes in this ring, so I guess I am spending my birthday with her.
i love her and she loved me
we spread some of her ashes at pier 39, her favorite place. (none of her blew back in my face like i was afraid of). she would have loved it.
last night I had my first dream of my sister where she spoke. She’s always in my dreams but she never says anything, and it’s not like she’s dead. I don’t acknowledge or remember in my dreams that she’s dead and gone, she’s just there in my dreams like she was in my life, only she doesn’t say anything. It never bothered me, I love and I’m so happy that she’s in my dreams.
though waking up is the worst, remembering that she’s really gone and I’ll never see her again in my life like I do when I dream.
anyway, in my dream last night, it was a holiday, I think 4th of July, but I’m not sure. In it my brother in law is outside grilling hot dogs, and we’re waiting to eat. Dyamon doesn’t say anything here, she’s there though holding our new nephew (Baby Potatoes, I love him so). Then, my brother in law comes in with the food and we’re all going to sit at this long table to eat together, but Dyamon gives our nephew to our sister a hug and says, “Okay, I have to go now.”
in my dream we all ask her why, where does she have to go? But all she says is “I have to go now.” And she smiles and goes to the door and leaves. I rushed to the door to open it and ask her again where she had to go and why, but I just stood at the closed door. My hand was out to turn the doorknob, but I couldn’t. I don’t know why, my hand wouldn’t grab it.
And then I woke up.
The dream was so fucking vivid. Like it was so real. I thought it was real. I woke up and was disoriented and confused and thought I was still at our older sister’s house. But it hit me and it broke me.
I’m crying now remembering it. And hearing her say she had to go now.
Yesterday it was 300 days since she died and every single one of those days I’ve thought about her and cried for her and prayed to her.
I miss her. I miss her more than I can explain. The pain is almost debilitating. I would give anything, even my own life to have her back here; she deserves to be here more than I do and I hate that I’m still here and she isn’t. No one would care or miss me as much as we all miss her.
I just want her back. That’s all. It’s all unfair.