I ran into an old friend at the gym yesterday, (it happens having grown up here), and despite my desire to keep my worlds from colliding, it was good to see a familiar face. Because we're facebook friends, she knows my happenings, and she commented that I looked lighter and that I was happy, and she's right.
I am lighter. I look back at myself over the past year or so, and in so many ways, I see how far I've come. I can see now how destroyed I was, and it's a testimony to both my own personal strength, but mostly that of my M; who I believe carried me through by letting me grieve and not letting me drown.
In no doubt our kid saved me, because if it wasn't for having to be present every day for her despite the shit storm that I was under, who knows where I'd have gone, or where I'd be now.
The longer my sister is gone, the quieter it gets, and all the ways that we were there for each other becomes glaringly apparent in its absence. My ingrained support system that wasn't actualized as my anchor until I realized my foundation is forever cracked without her.
It's funny, obviously not in a ha-ha way, that the layers of how we communicated peel back for closer examination; increasing the longing to speak to her, to have her once again as my sounding board and barometer because she got me in ways that no one ever will.
This is the crack that surrounds the passing of your loved ones, the breaking down and compartmentalizing is necessary for those left behind.
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