My Middle Sister
I lost my sister in February 2014 to ovarian cancer. Just reading those seven words makes me feel like I’ve been body slammed. I still can’t get my head around the fact that I will never see her again. At night when I’m asleep this thought comes to my mind and I can feel my stomach clench, as I sleep. I was her caretaker during the last few months of her life and feel honored that she allowed me the privilege. She was an amazing person, kind and generous to a fault, loved by many.
She passed away in my home and I now see and feel her in every room. I see her in the kitchen where we would eat breakfast and dinner. I see her in the den when we would watch television and she would lean over to plant a kiss on my cheek for no reason. I see her in the bedroom when I would sit on the foot of her bed and we would talk for hours about our life and growing up. But, I also see her in the other bedroom when she was moved to the hospital bed and where she passed away (there’s that body slam again).
The grief is overwhelming and I don’t know how I’m functioning at work or outside the house. I know I must be food shopping because I see recently stocked food in the refrigerator. I know I must be feeding and walking the dog because he’s happy and healthy. But, I don’t remember actually doing these things.
My thoughts churn about her last days and how she suffered but was so brave. I wonder how she did it. How could one person endure what she went through? I’m angry with the unfairness! Throughout the four and a half years of her illness she never gave up hope, never said why me or complained. After each procedure and operation she would say, “If this is as bad as it gets I can deal with this.”
I can’t accept that she will never make me laugh again, or hear her say that my singing sounds like a mosquito. I just miss her so very much. It’s just unbearable.