These Two...

Julian has started to read my blog.  I always knew this day would come, and I assumed they would react in one of two ways:

Reaction #1:  insist that I delete the entire thing so I don't ruin their reps

Reaction #2:  fall in love with every post and find joy in learning about who they were at a very young age

I am pleased to find that the reaction has been overwhelmingly #2.  Julian and I were up until 1:00am this morning reading through old posts (he read them out loud to me as I sipped on red wine) and it was lovely.  He has been reading them for about a week.  He told me he is trying to limit the amount he reads each day as he wants to savour them.  Last night we binge blogged, for sure.

A few days ago he told me that I should start writing about him and Nora again.  He said that since Auntie Shari died my posts have become depressing.  He is right.  But, I have to remain true to where I am and my posts are reflective of that.  It has been such an incredibly difficult two years for all of us.  I lost my sister, but Julian and Nora lost one of their very favourite people in the world.  There have been many tears, many talks and we keep Shari alive through our honest conversation.  Our house and their rooms are full of her arts and crafts.  These two not only have her things, but they each carry a piece of her as well.  She connected with them in such a beautiful way.  Deep conversations with Julian and endless hours of art with Nora.  I know she would love their quirky senses of humour.  She would love their fearless nature and lack of concern around looking or acting silly.  She would love their sensitivity.  Their kindness to animals, people and mainly their kindness to one another.  The massive loss they experienced at such young ages has shaped who they are and will continue to throughout their lives.

A part of me is sad that I haven't captured the MANY crazy stories and moments with these two on this blog over the past few years.  The dance parties in the kitchen.  The monologue performances before bed.  Speaking with accents as often as possible.  These two give me more then they could ever know...

jbxo

My Sister's Things no. 3

Finding a photo of my sister that I had never seen before is truly the greatest gift.  For a moment it feels like she is here and I am able to see her in a new way.  It is so easy to take for granted the fact that when we see someone we love we don't necessarily know what they will be wearing, how their hair will be styled, what the expression on their face will be... When the people we love are no longer here it is painful to realize that we won't be able to see them in that 'new' way again, all that remains are the memories, the photos and things.

I love this photo of Shari.  I found it on her Facebook account months ago and it took my breath away.  It reminds me of childhood moments with her, walking through the woods on our parent's farm.  I believe an old boyfriend of her's took this photo, I wasn't there when it was taken.  I even love that it is slightly blurry, that she is moving, that she is smiling, so beautiful and alive.  I love the caption she put on it:  "Me running from the grizzly, putting on a brave face."  I miss her sense of humour, I miss everything about her... I hope I find more photos that I have never seen before.

We lost you two years ago today, and the missing is unbearable.

jbxo

My Sister's Things no. 2

It is interesting to consider the effect a scent can have on you.  The memories that come rushing back with a specific smell.  Combine the scent of a person with the loss of that person and you have the perfect storm for sensory and emotional upheaval.  

This is Shari's perfume.  It is a cream scent, purchased from the health food store.  I had bought one - but in the scent of Patchouli Rose and I showed it to Shari.  She loved the container, and liked the smell, but she quickly decided my choice of fragrance was not 'her'.  On her next visit to the mall she went to the health food store and picked up Oasis... a 'sister scent' to my Patchouli Rose.  It is a lovely, beach smell and it is so very Shari.

I keep this little container on a table in my bedroom.  On occasion I open it, stand very still, close my eyes and inhale the scent deeply.  I can't explain how wonderful it feels to do this.  It is interesting how, although I rarely allow myself these moments (I am strangely worried that the fragrance is going to 'run out') I often smell Oasis when I walk into my bedroom, as well as in other areas of my home.  When I catch the scent I stop - frozen in a moment of remembrance, and I can't help but smile.  I see her, warm, smiling, colourful, vibrant... Shari.

A while ago I was at my parent's farm for a visit, and my mom went up to Shari's room and pulled Shari's art portfolio out from under her old bed.  Mom gave it to me as I have become the keeper of Shari's artwork, and it only makes sense for me to store it properly in her portfolio.  I couldn't seem to find a spot to store it when I brought it home, so her portfolio has taken up temporary residence in my living room, leaning against the wall near our piano.  I noticed a few days later when walking past it I could distinctly smell Oasis.  Bending down and smelling the portfolio directly it is as if someone has smeared Oasis all over the cover.  This is interesting considering the portfolio sat untouched under her old bed at the farm since she graduated from university.  It is not logical that the portfolio should carry this scent as Shari only started to wear Oasis in 2014.

I choose not to question this.  Instead, I prefer to walk into my living room, pause, smell, and smile.

jbxo

My Sister's Things no. 1

 

It has been very difficult to write since losing Shari.  I did continue to write, but it was in a word document saved on my computer.  I wrote miscellaneous ramblings about how I was feeling.  Free-flow text containing shock, loss, sadness, lists of the little things I miss about her... things I didn't feel like putting 'out there'.  At the very top of the document I typed the word 'BRAID'.  I typed this word without thinking much about it.  It just seemed to belong there... 

Shari was such a unique soul.  A gypsy girl with the most interesting sense of style.  She combined colours and patterns that I would never consider, and pulled them off flawlessly.  She always asked me if she looked 'crazy'.  I always thought she was stunning, and was forever proud to show her off when we were out together.

Since losing Shari I have felt very connected to her things.  I suppose it is because they are the only physical items that remain of her.  Lucky for me, she was a collector.  She loved to shop and pick up special items everywhere she went.  Touching her things, holding them, wearing them make me feel connected to her.  Interestingly, I tend to receive many compliments when I wear an item of hers.  Likely because the item is usually far more colourful and interesting than my usual uniform of black or grey.  

A few months ago an item of hers, a fun little, colourful keychain broke.  It upset me more than it should have (considering it was, after all, just a keychain).  It felt tragic because it was hers, and as much as I want to use and wear her things, I want to be able to keep them perfect as well.  It was a reminder that we can't hold on too tightly to anything.  It also gave me the idea of starting a catalog, an archive of Shari's things.  Nora has been gifted much of Shari's special jewelry, and even some clothing that is far too big for her now.  Both her and Julian have numerous pieces of her art.  I would like them to be able to see Shari's things, and know the story of where they were from.  Just another of the many reasons I miss her - she had an incredible memory, and she could tell you exactly when and where she purchased every item she owned, as well as exactly how she was feeling when she purchased it.  She could also tell me what I wore to a random family get-together 15 years ago.  My memory is very foggy on such things, but I will do my best to piece together a little archive of some of Shari's more special objects - or, I should say, some of Shari's objects that are special to me.

Shari bought this braid ring in the summer of 2014 at the second hand store:  Goodwill.  It is sterling silver, and she paid around $6 for it.  I freaked out when she came over wearing it.  I can still remember her sitting at the island in my kitchen, and I must have asked to try the ring on five times.  I loved it - and so did she.  She asked me if I wanted to borrow it, but I just couldn't.  It was perfect on her long, elegant finger.  She was dating a sailor at the time and she bought this ring because it reminded her of a sailor's knot.  Shari was wearing this ring when she died, and I have worn it every day since.  It has become one of my most treasured possessions.  

When I am particularly sad or missing her I close my eyes and give this ring a little kiss.  The symbol of a braid means many things to me now.  It reminds me of the time that Shari wasn't well, and I brushed and braided her hair.  A braid is two pieces that come together to form something beautiful, something stronger than each piece could ever be on it's own.

jbxo