I have started to consider myself an expert when it comes to losses. I've lost my dad, two uncles, grandmother, an aunt and two cousins all within a span of eight years. I know how that might sound. Nobody keeps a record of such things but the reason I did and I'm stating it is because over the past decade, I've been terribly good at coping with losing my loved ones...or so I thought.
On 30 December, my sister was already in a critical state when we were hoping she would be discharged from t he hospital to start her journey as a mother. She was ecstatic if I recalled correctly. We had been planning the arrival of my niece when she broke to us her pregnancy news. My mother of course did not want to marry her off just yet. After all, she was our youngest and letting her go to live at someone else's household would have been a terrible decision she could've made, or at least that was our biggest concern. However, I was all in for her marriage. I wanted her to take responsibility for every decision she made. I wanted her to mature and to give her baby a life where she has both parents living under the same roof.
After my parents divorce and my father's death, I have always been a little harsh on my sister. She wasn't an over achiever like I am and she always followed her heart and I didn't agree with her decisions all the time. I was that type of sister. When her baby father wanted to marry her, I was the one who persuaded my mother to agree to it. I thought that was the biggest decision we could make for her to mature. I guess I was hoping for something else that time.
I didn't have the type of relationship with my sister where she trust me enough to tell me everything. I was the one who pushed her to achiever greater things, the harsh sister who wants to control her life and reflect her own dreams onto her sister. At least, that is what I used to think I was to my sister. But my sister was the most forgiving person I know. Everyone who knows her know how big her heart was and most of our differences stem from that.
When the doctor told us to prepare for the worst, my heart hoped for a miracle instead. I didn't want to believe even for a second that she would go. I am stubborn that was. My conscience kept telling me the possibility of her passing away was high. But I refuted to all those theories and kept hoping for her recovery. Hope sometimes make you delusional. When she passed away on New Years Day, everything I believe I've mastered instantly went away.
I didn't mourn my sister for months. I accepted her death and all I did was try to mend the people she left behind. My mother, her husband, my niece...everyone. I knew for a fact that she would have wanted me to be strong for everyone. She would've known I was the one that she was going to count on in her absence.
But I took too much on my plate and I'm starting to crumble. I feel like I'm suffering a disease no one has a clue about. I miss her, I missed all opportunities to tell her how sorry I am for being so tough on her. I didn't let her experience the warm love little sisters feel from their big sisters. I have reached out to some friend who have recently lost someone they love. Most of the advice they tell me is to stay strong and to continue praying. But each day, I'm losing the will to pray. I get lost by the minute and I am trying my best to reason my feelings but I am getting tired of it all.
