By May 7, 2010

The Things We Remember

Today marks the eleventh year of my sister’s passing. As the days tick on, I continue to think about her and the things that she did for me. The things that she taught me, both in her words and actions.

However, as I now have lived a little more than a day longer than my sister, I have started to think about the things I don’t remember.

And it makes me sad, and concerned, and even a little guilty.

There are a few things I distinctly remember, but I feel like the majority of my recollections are stories. Stories I heard from my sister’s own mouth, or my mother’s, or even snippets like movie scenes in my own mind.

I remember her descending the stairs of my mother’s house, smiling and reaching out to hug me on New Year’s Eve.

I remember her driving me to my first concert, and singing songs as loudly as we could.

I remember her wanting to spend time with me — not because we were family, but because she genuinely liked me.

But then again I cannot remember the fine details.

I remember her face, but not her voice.

I remember her smile, but not her scent.

I remember her hair, and the stretch marks on her stomach from being pregnant with my niece, but not more than a few words of any conversation we ever had over the span of twenty three years.

I remember the sadness and surrender in her voice the last time we spoke.

But I don’t remember if I told her I loved her.

And I certainly know I did not tell her I loved her often enough.

Today has been particularly hard on me. It is an odd feeling, surviving beyond an elder’s span. I always thought she was so wise and experienced.

Having reached her age and a day, I feel like I have so much to learn, and so much to do.

I love you, Sue, and I will never forget that I do. Even if I can’t remember all of the details.

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1 Comment on "The Things We Remember"

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  1. Erin Clare says:

    What a beautiful post. I think that you remembering her presence everyday and holding quiet reverence every year on her passing is more than enough to keep her soul alive. Memories provide a wonderful reflection but are not the only things that embody her spirit. She lives on in your niece and in you. Your actions while you are here are a reflection of some of her attributes you share… though they may not be as easily recognized to your eyes. By continuing to learn you honor her existence and influence in great ways.

    My warm thoughts to you and your niece and to Sue who still talks through you both.