Grief is always so weird.
I see cool things and take pics to send to my sister then I remember I can’t. I hate it cause it’s her favourite time of year too so there’s so much she’d love to see.
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from France

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from South Africa

seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
Grief is always so weird.
I see cool things and take pics to send to my sister then I remember I can’t. I hate it cause it’s her favourite time of year too so there’s so much she’d love to see.
Today I had to sit at home with my daughter and say goodbye to my sister through an online portal at her funeral in Ireland.
A funeral that was planned. seemingly, entirely by her father. A service that barely showed who she truly was, had none of her personality and humour, that lacked her children and spoke of a person who I barely recognized as my sister.
I’ve had numerous calls and texts about how my being cut out of any of the services was the final slap for both her and I, how it’s been noticed by friends who knew the truth and how it’s been a topic of conversation.
Today, I say goodbye to my sister in the way I know she’d approve of, by buying a taxidermy animal, eating take out and watching horror movies. It’s partly how I spent my last evening with her, thankfully not overly long ago. And is exactly how I want to remember her.
I’m no longer a big sister and I don’t know how to feel.
I never thought I’d be in this kind of situation. Besides losing my sister, my (and hers) whole found family now is starting to get suspicious about the circumstances and we know there’s nothing we can do.
A history of depression means the authorities are writing it off as a tragic loss with a history of repeated attempts that ended successful this time.
The more days that pass the more strange things appear and we’re all helpless to prove any of it.
Going through it and my queue is just going along like nothing happened.
Weird.
Every time I walk into a hospital....
Every hospital appointment, every meeting with a doctor, every mention of the words “cancer”, “chemo”, every fucked up hospital record that mentions my dad as the primary emergency contact triggers my fucking trauma and anxiety. I’m trying to stay strong but I’m so fucking terrified to lose another parent to cancer. I keep trying to be strong, to not let this all affect me in my personal life, work life or my focus to graduate- only one more month... but the triggers are so strong when you have to talk about cancer and meeting with doctors 2-3 times a week and every meeting brings bad news.
Fuck cancer. fuck everything right now