It seems odd being at my sister’s place and thinking that she is really gone. I was just here in February and she was over in a hospital in Seattle. I spent a night at her house and then drove her car over there. Isn’t she still there? I wonder if it will even dawn on me before I leave that I will never make another memory with my sister.
That hits me first when some close dies. I feel anger over never being able to remember anymore good times we have together. The couple of years I spent at college in Seattle gave me the opportunity to visit her very often. We would go all over, on car trips up to Hurricane Ridge or Lake Crescent. She dragged me to her support groups and even though it was a serious part of her life and I respected that we still would laugh afterwards about the whole scenario. “Were we just in a scene from a sitcom?” I know her groups helped her learn about herself but I think she appreciated a lighter perspective on it too sometimes because she realized that she was so serious most of the time.
At meals we would sit and tell stories from our very different childhoods. Her memories were so different than mine because of our 11-year age difference. But somehow we could relate well realizing our parents were the same over the years. We would laugh and laugh until Lee would say, “Don’t choke! I’m afraid you’ll choke and then what can I do?” Then we would start laughing all over again.
Maybe I was just her levity dose. In those days she didn’t watch television. I remember her begging me to come visit her when I was returning from overseas saying, “You can ease into American culture here, I don’t have a TV.” I tried to get out every year or two to visit, but that waned over the years.
I came out about a year after Mom died. I wanted to help her choose a car in 2006 when she got her inheritance from Mom’s estate. That was fun too – test driving cars and trying to give her tips on how to deal with car salesmen. I was out again in January of 2008 since I was headed overseas again. I wish she were here to visit with.
Eventually it will sink in. I will realize she is gone. But right now it just feels like she’s over in the hospital.
That hits me first when some close dies. I feel anger over never being able to remember anymore good times we have together. The couple of years I spent at college in Seattle gave me the opportunity to visit her very often. We would go all over, on car trips up to Hurricane Ridge or Lake Crescent. She dragged me to her support groups and even though it was a serious part of her life and I respected that we still would laugh afterwards about the whole scenario. “Were we just in a scene from a sitcom?” I know her groups helped her learn about herself but I think she appreciated a lighter perspective on it too sometimes because she realized that she was so serious most of the time.
At meals we would sit and tell stories from our very different childhoods. Her memories were so different than mine because of our 11-year age difference. But somehow we could relate well realizing our parents were the same over the years. We would laugh and laugh until Lee would say, “Don’t choke! I’m afraid you’ll choke and then what can I do?” Then we would start laughing all over again.
Maybe I was just her levity dose. In those days she didn’t watch television. I remember her begging me to come visit her when I was returning from overseas saying, “You can ease into American culture here, I don’t have a TV.” I tried to get out every year or two to visit, but that waned over the years.
I came out about a year after Mom died. I wanted to help her choose a car in 2006 when she got her inheritance from Mom’s estate. That was fun too – test driving cars and trying to give her tips on how to deal with car salesmen. I was out again in January of 2008 since I was headed overseas again. I wish she were here to visit with.
Eventually it will sink in. I will realize she is gone. But right now it just feels like she’s over in the hospital.
