JANUARY 7, 2010
~~~It’s been 7 months, 1 week, and 4 days since my sister’s ex-husband placed a beretta to the back of her beautiful head and squeezed the trigger three times.
She had just returned from the dentist… She was pulling her long hair into a ponytail….she was walking out the front door to take her daily hike.
She was the best friend I ever had.
He saved the last bullet for himself… for his irrelevant, insignificant, monstrous self.
For his sinister, manipulative, miserable self.
A heavy weight of shadows covered the entire earth. My earth. My existence.
I remember thinking— So this is what HELL feels like. So this is what DARKNESS is.
So this is what a butterfly might experience if it metamorphosised back into a caterpillar…
Her belly wedged to the ground for a second time.
I also realized we have this invisible core that rises, lifts, and erupts from the soul like an explosion.
It’s there. I know. I still suffer its sharp claws.
And I pray to Jesus that none of you will ever experience it… feel it climb from your center like a black cyclone.
After knowing all of this. After now being educated…. I’m just curious…..
Would you please think twice before uttering sentences such as these:
“Was your Holiday great?”
“Why aren’t you smiling?”
“Well, how would you fill up that void if your sister were in China?” (yes, somebody asked me this)
“Have you thought about medication?”
“If you’re not better In six months, you’ll need further attention.”
“It will get better.”
“Life goes on.”
Blah::::::::::Blah::::::::::::Blah::::::::::::Blah::::::::::::Shut the hell up::::::::::::::
Now after informing you on such matters, your ignorance should be wiped away and you should know better.
For your information:
One does not get better. I will never be better. I am changed. Forever. This IS NOT a void to be filled. My sister, the best friend I ever had, the blood of my blood IS NOT IN FUCKING CHINA. She is inside a coffin at Oneonta Cemetery. Do you not comprehend the difference?
I’m not sure how to live without her yet. I’m not sure how to inhale and exhale some mornings. I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through
One. More. Solitary. Day.
I never knew how exhausting joylessness was.
I never knew one could cry for 7 strait months.
It’s like being born again—starting over—learning how to eat and drink again.
Only this time you have the memories…..the regrets….the love.
It’s almost like dying and resurrecting into something entirely new…something less than you were before.
Only this time you still hold the Love Love Love Inside. You hold onto it with everything you have.