Maybe I know
I'm not sure why I'm having such a hard time updating my blog lately. I've been busy, but no more than usual - I've been sick - but that's never stopped me before... . Maybe I'm in a funk because it's August, and August is always a hard month for me.
I remember my last words to Cookie. They were, "I'll see you in an few days Cookie. I'll cook you a nice dinner and you'll get your bubble-butt back." And then I told her that I loved her before saying goodbye.
I never did see my sister again - alive that is, and I would never cook for her the dinner she'd always rant and rave about. In fact, nothing in my life would ever be the same, and there is no way I could have ever, in my wildest dreams, have forseen what was to come.
The next time I would see my dear sister's face again, would be peering into a pink, silk-lined casket, carefully (and lovingly) picked out by my parents. And truth be told, if you had asked me, then, or even now, I couldn't have told you unequivically that the body I was looking at, belonged to that of my beloved sister. But in retrospect, I suppose that single bullet to her head would have changed her beautiful face, wouldn't it?
And still, perhaps that's one reason it's been so hard to come to terms with her death - even after all this time. And maybe deep down, I have never believed it could have been her, despite the improbable - impossible odds, that it could have been anyone else.
Only someone who's experienced the same could understand the gamut of emotions that run through one's mind and the need to find reasons or the frustration of when you don't. I know that. In my head I know that, but in my heart, I cannot possibly get past my pain, and my tears to fully try to understand it in any other way.
So anyway, it's August and I've had a hard time updating my blog. But the more that I think about it, maybe I do know the reason after all.
I remember my last words to Cookie. They were, "I'll see you in an few days Cookie. I'll cook you a nice dinner and you'll get your bubble-butt back." And then I told her that I loved her before saying goodbye.
I never did see my sister again - alive that is, and I would never cook for her the dinner she'd always rant and rave about. In fact, nothing in my life would ever be the same, and there is no way I could have ever, in my wildest dreams, have forseen what was to come.
The next time I would see my dear sister's face again, would be peering into a pink, silk-lined casket, carefully (and lovingly) picked out by my parents. And truth be told, if you had asked me, then, or even now, I couldn't have told you unequivically that the body I was looking at, belonged to that of my beloved sister. But in retrospect, I suppose that single bullet to her head would have changed her beautiful face, wouldn't it?
And still, perhaps that's one reason it's been so hard to come to terms with her death - even after all this time. And maybe deep down, I have never believed it could have been her, despite the improbable - impossible odds, that it could have been anyone else.
Only someone who's experienced the same could understand the gamut of emotions that run through one's mind and the need to find reasons or the frustration of when you don't. I know that. In my head I know that, but in my heart, I cannot possibly get past my pain, and my tears to fully try to understand it in any other way.
So anyway, it's August and I've had a hard time updating my blog. But the more that I think about it, maybe I do know the reason after all.
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