My sister, Alexandrea, died on March 18th.
She was 28. And a mom of four amazing children: I have three nephews, and a niece, and they're okay. They're young, and strong, like she was.
I think about this every second, of every day, and I have since the moment I got the call.
So I'm sorry that my usually bright eyes, have been a little duller lately. I'm sorry that I don't know how to hold a conversation anymore. I'm sorry that I cry in the store when picking out Mother's Day cards.
I'm sorry that I can't look you in the eyes and speak to you, I'm afraid you'll see my pain and then I'll have to tell you "My sister died.". And I'm sorry that sometimes I stare too deeply into your eyes. I'm hoping you'll see my sadness so I can tell you "My sister died." because I'm in so much fucking pain I don't know how misery is not oozing out of my pores and infecting everyone else.
I'm sorry that I say "Ugh. The sun is out." as if it were a harbinger of plague. It doesn't seem fair to me that the world can revolve around anything that isn't the death of my sister. How can the sun shine if not to touch her skin?
I'm sorry that sometimes I smile, that sometimes it even looks like I have finally conquered the beast of grief and then 15 minutes later I'm crying again. It's as mind boggling to me as it is to you.
I'm sorry I've abandoned this blog, every project, conversations, groups, plans. I'm trying to put my energy towards the things I have to do at home, and I'm failing enough at that. I know it's been over a month since she died, but I'm not ready to let go of her. I don't know how to live with this grief yet.
But in the meantime, I am sorry.