Apr 30, 2013 04:58
I used to have a big sister. Her name was Kerrie. She was tall, green-eyed and curly-haired.
She was impulsive and creative and knew a 'good drop' when she met one. She was adventurous and unfettered, an excellent cook and a skilled gardener. Kerrie was independent, free-thinking and definitely liked to 'paddle her own canoe'. She was thrifty but still liked to indulge in the finer things of life. She was vibrant, clever, artistic, energetic, charismatic, flirtatious, well-read, talented and fun to be around.
She was also angry, bitter and full of hate; aggressive, a bully, short-tempered and wonderfully impatient. She was loud, argumentative, driven, opinionated, critical, inconsistent and out of step with the rest of the world. Kerrie was, I think, always searching for something.
My sister was a paranoid schizophrenic with delusions of grandeur. She was an anarchist with a religious mania. But she was my big sister and I loved her, missed her and worried about her. And, strangely, Kerrie's death has given me back my sister.
I mourn for her and all her lost opportunities.
family matters