Are we worthy?

Ducks at the pond by my job at the time

I was reminded of something today that sent me on a deep dive search into the past.

For those who may not know, I lost my sister on March 25, 2013. This year it will be 11 years since she left this earth. During that first year, I was almost inconsolable.

Sister ring

My sister gave me a title I was proud of, Sister. I was the younger, annoying little sister for a long time while we were growing up, always touching her things and making her mad. Going into her room un-invited and taking her stuff, reading her diary, bugging her and her friends, inconveniencing her with my existence. As was my right...am I right?

The year she left for college everything changed. I was the only "child" in the house. She had become an "adult," the cooler older sister, the person who would come back to visit and tell me all of the stories of the parties and the fun she was having, the experiences she was living through. We became something more like friends. I missed her in a way that I couldn't before, since she was always there, and now she was off living a life that didn't include me. I couldn't infringe on her time, or annoy her into paying attention to me.

Rainbow over my workplace at the time

As I got older myself, and started having my own experiences, I would share them with her. She was the first person I would go to when I needed social advice, or to talk about how to deal with a problem, especially a non-parental-unit needing to know type problem. We became closer friends, and sisters in a way that I cherished. She was a rock in a world that I had a hard time navigating.

When she had the opportunity to move over to England for a job, I was sad, but hyped. I was going to visit and we would see all kinds of things. I never made it over there while she was alive.

When she met her husband and they got married, I was sad that I couldn't go to her wedding, but I watched the video so that I could take part in the only way that I could.

The last birthday card from her

When she passed, on a planned short trip to the states, I was grateful that I got to see her one last time, and hug, and spend time with her. It was out of no-where, and in the moments when I was in the hospital room looking down on her, coming to the realization that this person would never be alive in my life again, I felt something inside of me shatter. I felt an extreme Before and After in my life. Anyone who has gone through any kind of traumatic event can probably understand what I mean when I say that. Everything from the Before felt like it had been lived by another person.

I still have it

Our family, her husband and his family, and her best friend. We all grieved together, not really knowing how or what to do. We went to the worst funeral for her we could have ever experienced, a show put on by her nanny that I will never believe was actually for my sister, but was for that woman's own benefit. In those days, I latched onto my sister's best friend in a way that was probably not healthy for either of us, but it did help.

We struggled with who we were

My sister's best friend had been there for as long as I could remember, another sister, just not related. In all honesty, it was probably never not going to happen. She became my lifeline while I spiraled left and right for the whole following year. I talked to her every day or so, just like I did with my sister. We became close and worked on art as a therapy together. She was courageous in a way that I wasn't and pushed me to just do and be. I was grateful she existed and was there for me. I needed her. And then she passed as well. A little over a year after the passing of my sister, my new surrogate who I probably shouldn't have latched onto so hard, was also gone.

She got the same tattoo as a memorial

Again, I was devastated.

The reason that I'm taking the time to put all of this out there like this, is because, through therapy, I have learned that I have not dealt with these events. I did a very good job of compartmentalizing and pushing these emotions down to a point where it almost feels like I don't feel them at all.

The real final resting place

In todays' meanderings and ponderings, I was reminded of a few things from each of them, things that I will be exploring through my art, alongside therapy, as I attempt to deal with my depression and the extreme levels of anxiety that I experience on a daily basis.

In pushing them both down and away, I do not honor their memory. I have struggled with living in this world, in this society that doesn't really make any sense to me. I want to do more than struggle, more than exist. And so the question remains, what makes us worthy to be here when those we think are better than us are gone? My sister was awesome, and making the world a better place in her work and in her life. So was her best friend. How can I?