the Beginning of an End

2.25

Dear Sienna,

It’s been exactly three weeks since you’ve died.

Unfortunately for me it was finally time to leave the safe confines of Asa’s living room in Long Beach where I’ve reclused myself away since you’ve left us.  Begrudgingly, it was time to rejoin our family back in Las Vegas and face this new reality without you, leaving your “brother in law”, my forever home, back in California till it was time for him to join us on your birthday in two weeks. 

I know our parents missed me, especially after everything that’s happened but I wasn’t ready until now to write to you, nor was I ready to be back here with them; their sadness was another reminder of my own. But I suppose it was time, for everyone’s sake. 

Thank god our cousins Ale and Isa came down that first day, having flown in the second they heard the news to be with us they stayed with Asa and I until I was ready to leave this place. I don’t know what he or I would have done without them there; probably drown in our own sorrow, unable to see the light that you so dramatically left behind if it was just the two of us.  They made these last few weeks somewhat bearable and I thank the universe for having gifted us them but I’d be lying if I didn’t look at their sisterly bond and feel a twinge of jealousy because the harsh reality of all of this is that I am no longer a sister. 

For five long and dreadful hours of our roadtrip home with them, I pushed down the acidic vomit that still threatens its unwelcome birth at the back of my throat, silently hoping cousin Isa wouldn’t see how coming back here was physically affecting me from where I sat in the passenger seat: I swallowed, didn’t spit; 

you’re welcome. 

The flat desert place that's listed on both of our birth certificates now holds both the painful memories of our early childhood and the ones we’ve buried away with our dead father all those years ago. These memories are now solely my own to share when everyone else is gone, another sad truth we all dryly have to swallow. I’m realizing now as I try to process the storm of my emotions how I’m kind of really angry at you. They weren’t lying when they said that anger is a part of grief because its ugly claws have dug into my dark and aching soul. I’m angry because you were supposed to be here for us to share this life with and you’ve been taken from us way too soon. Now, the empty chair that takes up space in our parents dining room is a stabbing reminder of what we’ve truly lost, a seat never to again be filled by you. It's a sad scene that I’ve had to watch on continuous repeat since my short time coming back here as the three of us sit across from each other and eat our dinner in tear streaked silences. So ya, I guess I’m still fucking angry Sienna, our parents shouldn’t be mourning their twenty four year old dead daughter and I shouldn’t be mourning the loss of my only sister.  

I’m pissed because you were supposed to be here to share this life with me, side by side like we always were. We were supposed to make it to the bitter end: hand in hand with our self made families in tow; I always imagined how we’d be standing together at our own parents' funerals, wrinkled old, and gray, and happy. We were going to comfort one another the only way siblings knew how: a bond we’d share after experiencing the pain of having just lost the same parent. We’d stay strong for one another because that's what sisters do in a time like this. And isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? 

Not the other way around: Mom and Dad and I, shouldn’t have to be burying you before us...it just ain’t right. You weren't supposed to be coming back this way, tightly packed away in a bag of ashes, ready to join him, but here we are. 

And when your remains are ready back in San Diego: you will be...

You died on the twenty seventh day of January (lucky number 27) ironically enough it was exactly a month to the day before our biological fathers death-versary. 

Coincidence or am I just reading too much into this sick and twisted cosmic anomaly? 

He died so many lifetimes ago, I don’t remember being this goddamn angry all the time when we were kids but I guess I had always been an angry teenager now that I think about it. I suppose suppressing the anger of our biological father’s death came out in those more formative years. But it’s been years since I’ve thought of him and I am a different person now. This newfound and gut clenching anger from the loss of you has taken root in the dark depths of my heart. This pain of loss hurts so much more now than it did back then. Maybe it's because I’m old enough now to truly understand what it means to lose the ones we love, maybe it’s because it's a pain all too familiar to our family, maybe it’s all the above and then some. 

I just pray that this retched feeling growing inside of me doesn't last long. It's truly an ugly emotion to constantly be feeling all of the fucking time and also it causes wrinkles. But here I am…angry and sad and…

Oh shit, a ladybug just flew by. 

The first one of the season. 

You know what they say: lady bugs are a sign your loved one is visiting from the other side…Was that you? I can only hope. 

Anyways.

I don’t know where else to put this anger or how else to feel like you’re still here with me…with us…so I’m writing you this letter. Maybe I’ll write to you some more, maybe I won’t, I haven't decided yet. I just hope that you’re still out there listening because I miss you and you’ve already missed so much here. 

I love you. 

I miss you. 

Until next time. 

Love,

Sissy