A Letter To The Summerlands

It was twelve years ago today that I lost my sister. I had started to write this blog recalling every detail in the hopes that by doing so, I would maybe not grieve so much today, maybe not ache so much for my loss. However, during the course of writing I realized that, even though it may have been cathartic to me, reliving every detail of that day may hurt those I love more than they are already hurting. I know the details, as do they. There is no need to write them out. But how does one do something to help themselves, to heal themselves, without causing a renewed sense of loss to others? This question was rolling around inside my head when I had an idea. Instead of remembering the grievous details of the day 12 years ago, I am instead going to write a letter to her. I am going to lay it all on the line, the positive and negatives, and hope that this process will be the balm my soul needs to heal. I have a really hard time letting go sometimes and I feel my loss as deeply today as I did that day, maybe even more so. It is time to heal, to let go completely and between this idea of a letter and something that my husband is helping me with tomorrow evening, I can only hope that it is what I need to finally heal.

Dear Teresa,
         I miss you. There are so many times when I wish so badly that I could call you on the phone, tell you of the wonderful moments in my life, like when Nesa was born, or ask your advice when I am having a hard time coping with a situation. You were always there for me when I needed you to be, just as I hope I was there for you. I am still here for you. I have watched your girls grow and become women and mothers. I have shared in their celebrations as well as their tragedies. I have tried my best to be all that you asked me to be for them. I hope I have not failed you. Sometimes I am so angry with you for not being here and at those times I feel the loss of you so much more acutely. I could have used your strength when we lost mom. I felt so alone, so afraid. It was so hard on me to be the one to find her and then not have my sister here to hold me and anchor me. I needed you. Although I will never forget the day that your grand-daughter was born, never forget the moment when your line was reintroduced back into life and the honor I felt at being there to witness it, I would have given that moment up in a heartbeat to be the one waiting in the waiting room for you to come out, tears of joy streaming down your face as you told everyone the news. In that moment, as elated as I was, I was also angry that you were not here to hold Christina's hand as her life drastically changed. I have been so angry with you for leaving me with this task on my shoulders. It was so hard to watch them grow and know that no matter how hard I tried to be there for them, it was never going to be enough because I am not you. I am not their mom. It was incredibly painful to have to sit by and watch them act out and make bad choices knowing that the reason they did so was because of their grief for you. I see so much of you in them and although it makes me smile and most of the time I can think or comment on it and enjoy the moment, there is always a part of me that wishes that they could see how much they are like you for themselves. I can tell them, but a part of me wonders if they think I just say these things to help them feel connected to you. I hope they know that that is not the case and that they really do look and act so much like you because they are a part of you. I hope they know how special that is. Then there is Mya, your grand daughter who calls me grandma. As honored as I am by the title, by the relationship between her and I, again, I would give it up in an instant if it meant that you were here to be that for her. I show her pictures of you, tell her who you are to her. One day, when she is old enough to understand I will tell her all about you. The things Christina and Kimberly were not privy to. The things only a sister knows. You taught me so much Teresa and I miss your guidance, your sense of humor and just your very presence. I have so many memories and although they have become like treasures to me, sometimes, on days like today, they haunt me even while they make me smile and laugh through my tears. I just miss you so much. I don't think I will ever stop missing you. It is so unfair and I feel so cheated and robbed sometimes that it hurts. I love you my sister. Until we meet again in the Summerlands....good-bye, Namaste my sister.