Four Year Anniversary

A time to remember what I will never forget.

It’s been four years since my sister Natalie passed away.

Of course I’ve been listening to her music and going through photos… Yesterday I watched an episode of American Idol. Not on purpose, the t.v. remote was lost and it’s just what came on.

I watched the first three people audition before I broke down. All the talent, the potential and determination… she had all that too.

I’d gotten to a point where I almost forgot that she was real. The past four years she existed only in pictures, videos, old post cards and memories. I felt more like a crazed music fan. Then when talking to a friend, I talked about how I loved dolls growing up. It wasn’t Natalie’s thing. She loved the plush monster toy. The action figures. In the Disney movies, she rooted for the Queen of Hearts and Captain Hook. And then it hit me.

I knew those things about her because she was real. Because we shared a bedroom as little kids. We built forts under the dining room table where we’d watch vhs tapes with our fancy New York Seltzer waters and popcorn. We got into trouble together. She was my maid of honor and I was hers. When my first baby was born premature and my husband had to go back to work, it was Natalie who made sure I got to the hospital every day to be with my baby. She was my sister. She was my friend.

The other day I thought I would go to the cemetery and visit her until I realized she isn’t buried anywhere. I used to be anger about that. Now I’m glad. She wasn’t real good about staying in one place anyway. She was a mover and a shaker. It wouldn’t have been fair to put her in one place.

And I deal with that. The fact that she is everywhere and nowhere.

It’s harder this year. This quarantine is making me crazy not being able to hug my mom. Not knowing when that will even be a possibility.

So, I cry. And cry. And I try to wait until everyone is gone or at least asleep because I’m tired of people comforting me. I know they mean well… I just want to be sad, angry, gutted. I feel the need when someone sits with me or wrap their arms around me that I need to stop crying or at least slow down. Be quiet. Show them that yes, they are helping me feel better.

I will never feel better. Not when it comes to this.

I wish I could end this post on a more positive note but I wrote this post to honor her and now I’m going to honor my grief and sit with my sadness.

I love you, Nat.

Natalie – Asilos Magdalena