Every now and then I have a moment. A moment where something stops me dead in my tracks and I realize the void in my life that is the loss of my sister. Sunday it was this painting at my Dad's house. He bought this when he was on a cruise ship because he said he was walking through the art gallery, he saw it, and he immediately broke down sobbing. I mean, how much does this look like HEATHER?! And she's holding butterflies??? I would have bought it on the spot myself.
For the record, this painting is HUGE. It's probably 5 feet tall, and it's right in the entry way to my Dad's house. It towers above the little side table that holds my sister's urn. Yes, the urn that I talk to every time I'm there. Yes the urn that holds my sister's ashes. The only physical thing I have left of her. I have a conversation with my sister every time I'm at my Dad's house, just like she's still here. So what if it's weird - it's a sister thing, I guess...
God, I miss her. More than anyone could ever comprehend. More than I let on sometimes. More than a person probably should. I miss her sense of humor. Nobody understood me quite like her - my quirks, my insecurities, my hopes... I miss the silly inside jokes we had and I miss her laugh. I miss the way she would make fun of me when I was being "such a girl." I miss her hugs. I miss my best friend.
Does it ever get any easier?
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