May 11, 2003

Thoughts a Month After...

Quoted from this blog on April 17, 2003:
"I miss her so much already, and it hasn't even been a week since she has been gone. I can not even imagine what this will feel like next week, next month, or next year."

It has now been almost exactly one month from the time my sister was killed. It is hard for me to imagine, but one month ago at this very moment my sister was living out the last few hours of her life. I still miss her horribly. It also doesn't help my mother much that one month to the day of her daughter's unfortunate death is Mother's Day. The amount of memories I have of my sister are greater than ever, and they seem to grow every single day. I start thinking of something, someone says something, or I see or hear something and another memory is sparked.

Quoted from Pet Semetary by Stephan King:
(Louis Creed's thoughts while tucking in his young daughter Ellie after his toddler son Gage is killed. They just discussed Ellie's reaction to the death.)
"'Keep him alive, Ellie, if that's what you want,' he thought and kissed her. 'The shrinks would probably say it's as unhealthy as hell, but I'm for it. Because I know the day will come--maybe as soon as this Friday--when you forget to carry the picture and I'll see it lying on your bed in this empty room while you ride your bike around the driveway or walk in the field behind the house or go over to Kathy McGown's house to make clothes with her Sew Perfect. Gage won't be with you, and that's when Gage drops off whatever Hot One Hundred there is that exists in litle girls' hearts and starts to become Something That Happened in 1984. A blast from the past.'"

I am terrified that I am slowly letting my sister and her death become Something That Happened in 2003. I suppose that it is natural to stop thinking about her as often as time goes by and I'm fairly certain that that is actually what happens to most mentally healthy people after a loved one's death. As natural as it may be, I hate that there will probably be a day in the future where I don't think of my sister at all, where no memories of her make me smile, where no sorrow-filled part of my soul cries out for her. That scares me.

Why am I seemingly punishing my mind with Pet Semetary this shortly after my sister's death? So far it has had two funerals described in painfully vivid details along with some commentary about what goes on behind the scenes. Well, I bought it and I decided that I had better read it. Getting close to finishing it now.

Posted by Randy at May 11, 2003 08:34 PM