Six years ago today Shari left us. In the early days after losing her it was difficult to comprehend how I would get through a day, or a week, impossible to believe I would survive six years without her in my life.
Six years. That is:
72 months.
313 weeks.
2,192 days.
I remember the feeling of September 2014. That month, and many of the months that followed had a scent, a taste, a sensation, both in the pit of my stomach, and the ache in my heart. I sometimes struggle to comprehend which part of losing her was worse in those initial days: realizing she was gone, and not being able to find her, or finding her four days later and confirming that she was gone forever. Once we found her the next stages began. Floating through a fog I recall going through her apartment. It wasn't frantic. It was oddly peaceful. The first day it was just me, in the silence, looking through her things, taking my time to sift through every pocket, every nook and cranny as I slowly folded and packed away her precious things. When the silence became unbearable I pressed 'play' on her little CD player. The Sundays album static & silence began to play. It was oddly perfect, and I felt a sense of peace when I realized I was listening to the last music she had listened to. I must have played that CD ten times while I was packing her possessions.
The fourty-two years I had with sista were not all perfect. There was a lot of worry, frustration, sadness, concern. But, there were also some of the most wonderful moments. Playing with our Fisher Price 'People' when we were little, not liking the way a specific story line was going, and making a deal to start the People's lives fresh with four simple words: "Starting now, 'kay? Go." Sleepovers in one another's rooms as children with fits of giggles, and then as teenagers with late night heart to hearts. Listening to music, enjoying good food, going for walks, talking about life, love and our latest thrift store find. Laughing so hard we would cry - usually at something super weird, something that no one else would understand, let alone find remotely funny.
When I talk about Shari I can feel my face brightening. She really was wonderful. Creative, intelligent, funny and beautiful. I always felt proud to be her little sister. Whenever she was in a low point, I always wished she could see herself through my eyes.
I remember after Shari died, a few close friends asked me what I needed, what would make me feel better. I could only ever think of one thing, and it was something no one could give me: time. I needed time to think, cry, remember, breathe, be. The few weeks I took off from work were a drop in the ocean of the amount of time that I craved. Life was so busy, a family, a cat, a house, work... life. I wanted to find a cabin in the woods, near the water, with books to read, food to eat, wine to drink, and just sit... in silence.
Some magical moments have happened over the past year. In December someone sent me the clip of sista and I on Speaker's Corner from decades ago. Seeing us being ridiculous together all those years ago was amazing. In May a friend of Shari's stumbled across this photo of her, and thought I might like it so he sent it to me. I had never seen it before, and it is now one of my favourites. Last month another one of her old friends sent me a video of her from University. Shari's magnolia tree bloomed for a second time this season. Now, this may be a result of it being so dry the tree actually thought it died, and then when we started to douse it in water her tree thought it was spring again. But, I prefer to think it was a lovely sign from sista, of course. ;) During the past six months I have had the gift of time... static & silence.
I am still processing losing her every single day. I know I always will be. It never gets easier, it just gets different. But, the edges get a little softer, and in the silence there is peace.
I love you and miss you, always & forever.
jbxo
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