It's been 30 years last month (April) since we lost our baby sister. I still cry sometimes (I'm bawling and snotting all over the place right now) and I know my other sister does too (sometimes we do it together), so obviously the pain and loss never really goes away. But it recedes with time, becomes less immediate and suffocating, and easier to cope with. My other sister and I even can talk about Shawn now and laugh about some of the crazyfunnysilly things she did, like hiding under my old fashioned bed (high clearance) and waiting patiently until I came into my room and stepped close enough that she could reach out and grab my ankles and scare the unholy crap out of me the little shi!. It actually made it easier to cope with my mom's passing a few years ago because we knew they were together again, Shawn, Mom and Grama. While I'm not in any hurry to die (I have a husband, stepchildren and a grandson I love very much), I'm not afraid of it either because I'll get to see them all again. It does get better, and I can truly appreciate the 21 and a half years we were lucky enough to have her. Her death was quick and painless, and she never saw it coming. And she went with chocolate in her mouth, just like mom did 23 years later. I'm sure they laughed about that, and that makes me...not happy exactly, but it was fitting. I know they are waiting until we're all together again, but I also know they wouldn't be happy if either of us didn't live our lives to the fullest.
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