co-conspirators

 As you know I lost my sister ten days ago. The first wave of grief has crested now and I feel the pull of it receding. I am aware that it will return. The reality of her passing hasn't taken root and expectations still exist. Maybe it is all a bad dream, maybe it didn't happen at all. Then the phone doesn't ring and I know it is true. My world has grown smaller. This morning I can't help but notice how a few more of my memories have become isolated. They are isolated because those memories were only shared with my sister. No one else understands those moments. You can't share time gone by, only relate the tale. And there are many moments like that, love is made up of moments stitched together over time, held together by understanding. My sister and I understood each other, accepted each other for who we are, and provided support to one another.

 Our world is made of our memories. The older we get the smaller that world becomes. That is something only age can teach you. Is it wisdom? I'm not so sure about that, but that it is real I have no doubt. We can look forward to tomorrow and we should. Aging doesn't mean you stop dreaming. Everything that happens in the future starts as a dream today doesn't it? You may be fairly certain that dream will come true. You can plan for it but the reality is you may not realize it. Tomorrow is not a guarantee. So, for that reason I say our world is made of our memories. I can't share memories with someone that wasn't there, all I can do is tell stories. A good story teller can transmit some of the emotions felt, make you feel sorrow, empathy, anger, or any number of emotions. Still they are not sharing that memory with the one who was the co-creator of that memory. My sister and I were co-conspirators in life. We did share secrets, exposing our vulnerabilities to each other. And that is a component of love as well. Now, those memories have grown silent. There is no way to reexperience them. That was only possible with her. A corner of my world is now uninhabited. I can still travel there, but I travel alone.

 Yes I'm feeling sorry for myself. Grief is a personal thing. I have yet to find words to express that emotion. I try to take some solace, some comfort in these words, " The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart. " ( Helen Keller ) The comfort comes from knowing that our hearts did touch and indeed, her heart touches me still. I believe it always will. It's true I can not see or touch her but her beauty, her heart, touches me every day. Always has, always will. I feel her presence in the sunshine and in the rain. A part of my world, we are co-conspirators. Now I'm wondering, just what it is she is planning now?