Today was the last day. From now on I can wear new clothes, listen to music. From now on I won't fit into a box even strangers understand: I'm in shloshim for my sister. From now on I...God, I don't want there to BE a 'from now on'. I'm not ready. I'm not ready to get up and start walking.
A, I've only begun to understand what it will be like to live in your absence. It's still the silly things that make me want to call you up, not the profound ones. Guess what - they're remaking Thundercats. You're never going to believe this, but I'm on youtube. And another thing about these glasses with tiny lenses you made me get: the last time I pushed them up, I poked myself in the eye! I hear your laugh in my head, the one that starts out like a grownup and winds up like Ernie. I can't believe you're not just out of sight, around a corner. I can't believe I won't hear or see you again.
It's been a privilege to talk about you this month, to say the things you'd never let me say to your face. How much I learned from you. How awed I am by the things you managed to do. How much light you brought into a room every time you entered it; how much joy you brought into our family, ever since you were born.
I can see, with the opened eyes of the bereaved, that you were something of an angel. But I'd trade that awfully-won knowledge anytime. I just want my human little sister back.
There is no ending to this. Only hard beginnings, over and over and over.