My Sister

Yesterday was my sister’s birthday. She would have been 23. 

I mourn not because I really knew her, but because I wished I had gotten the chance to. I suppose that’s kinda selfish, but it’s the truth. She passed away at only seven days old, and I was young. I remember the day though. Everyone sad and upset. The hospital. My brother only a few months later when we went back to the town she was born in, asking if we were going where “babies go to die.” He was only a year older than me at the time. 

I can’t say much about it. After 23 years of feeling that sadness, what is left to say? Life doesn’t stop for you when you need it to. Life keeps rolling, and after a while you learn to keep rolling with it. You can’t let it leave you behind unless you want to be lonely. 

People don’t get it though. They don’t get that others can mourn a loss of a person they never knew. That’s aggravating. “It’s not like you knew her.” Some insensitive jerks have commented before in some attempt to either cheer me up or make me feel worse about having feelings. It doesn’t matter. Death may be normal, but it is a result of sin, and therefore it is always painful. It isn’t natural. 

Thankfully I have hope in God. I will see my sister again one day. The separation and the anticipation is what makes it hard. 

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