Grieve

My family and close friends must've known, that my little sister and I were like cat and mouse, or cat and dog. Whatever. We. Fought. All. The. Time.

We'd started fighting even since she could barely talk. I found her annoying. And she might find me, too, annoying.

We're 8 years apart. That's how they tried to tell me, to give in and yield, by reminding me how much older I was and how she's just a baby. It could be translated as: "Do you have no shame to fight a little girl??"

But I could never understand the logic behind the argument. So what if she's 8 years younger? Wrong is wrong, and usually I'm the right one. Or so I thought.

There are things I couldn't understand. And she always found a way to tick me. Consciously or not.

Though our chinese zodiacs told a very different relationship: We supposed to be the best of best friends. Nevertheless, we fought often. Always.

Then I left when she was almost eleven. From then on, the routine communication we did were just on birthdays, Christmases and New Years. The older we got, the less we fought. Though maybe we should give the "distance" a huge credit.

But still... In all those years I often couldn't understand her. Why she'd done this and that. How could she?

To me, she'd always been that annoying little immature sister. Who made a mess in the house and did things as she liked.

Then tons and tons of her friends came to the funeral. Weeping and said: She was a very kind person. And suddenly I'm a proud sister.

I'm very grateful for the last few weeks with her. We talked a lot and not once fought.

But it also became my biggest regret.

It turns out very easy to talk to her. And I've wasted all those years just to feel like a sister at the last few weeks.

It took me years to finally be able to talk casually about my Dad. No one knows how many years it'll take me this time.

But I choose to live with the pain. It's not a thing you can forget. They say, people grow bigger around the grief. The grief itself never grows smaller. So the only way is just to live with it.

I'm still trying to.

It's just, as of today, I'm not big enough yet.

❤

Now that I think about it, the reason why I couldn't understand her for years is because she's an extraordinary person. And I'm just an ordinary one. Afterall pretty flowers get picked first and God evidently has an impeccable taste.