Sometimes I wonder what our relationship would become if my sis hadn't left the world in such a traumatic and abrupt manner. I find it difficult to share this part of me: Knowing she have the tendency and thoughts of killing herself always left me wondering when her time is up.
I don't usually speak of it; for people are unusually clumsy or awkward and insensitive with their response. "Why didn't you seek help?" As if I had the hindsight.
So now....I know. This feeling of wishing, hoping and reminiscing. This emptiness in my soul reeks of warm salty tears. Reading and seeing others post endearing sweet nothing of their sister often bring a bittersweet smile and punch to my gut. Sisters are my kryptonite.
How do you continue staying alive for someone else when you're living in misery yourself. Why are you better off heaven bound rather than earth side, with your earthly family whom you know will never forsake you. When did the trigger become so unbearable, only in death can you find solace.
Oh the questions I ask myself night after night.
I see my sis' image in everything I do and touch - the kids expressions, their faces even. Oh the resemblance. When I cook or bake and when I ate something delicious that's right up her alley, I wish she could have a little taste too. When I catch myself fancying something and remembered she'd like that too.
The dead truly live through our memories.
Occasionally, I find myself thinking "Do I have depression?", "Do I need help?". My thoughts and mindset have evolved. Was I ever this vulnerable, raw and authentic? No. Her death changed the way I view the world. It changed everything I knew and trusted. It made me a brand new person who holds her tongue more, speak up less, observe more and worry less.
Her death won't be in vain. It's up to me to make something out of it, even if I don't know where to start. Perhaps by passing on her kind and generous spirit to my children, so she may live through them, their sweet yiyi.
Till we meet again, Mei. xx
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