Loved and Lost

I've spent the last 10 years of my life trying to forget the sister I had. I say 10 as if I'm rounding, but the truth is I've blocked out so much of her existence that I cant even remember the year she died. I don't wanna take a stab and say 2000 because I shouldn't even be guessing, it should be imprinted on my brain. I deny she ever happened because it hurts too much to remember what I had and lost. Actually scratch that - That's a shit excuse for forgetting someone ever lived. Ignoring the past is not something I should have done. I remember her birthday. 16th February 1998. She died 16th March. A month after her 3rd birthday. I can work out the years if I tried but I feel so appalled at myself for ever forgetting such a significant date. But I live those two days every year as I would every other day, refusing to acknowledge its immense importance. I feel like the most horrible person ever. What the fuck is wrong with me. She has the most beautiful headstone at the cemetery, but what would I know I haven't been there in years and to make matters worse the I drive past the entrance to it every day. The cemetery is less than one kilometer from my house. I'm truly that much of a terrible person.

I have actually blocked out so much of the passed I absolutely do not remember her being alive. I remember snippets, but they are probably only moments that have been captured on home video. Not actual recollections. Its like I've erased her from my memory. I can't however forget that moment I was taken out of school in the middle of class and was driven to the doctors with my sister, I must have been about 8. I still remember mum breathing those dreadful words "Lucy's died".

My memory goes fuzzy after that - But the image of Dad holding her lifeless pale body in his arms with tears running down his face is an image I cant forget no matter how hard I try. And believe me I've tried.

Amazing Grace played at her funeral.

All the years after her death I would hate having a friend over to my house in fear they would see photos of her and ask questions.

To this day I refuse to tell anyone I had another sister.

Her name still, isn't even uttered in the family without an obvious amount of discomfort.

My younger brother, who was born 2 years after the death of Lucy is a whole 10 years younger than me. 90% of people comment on that when they find out. Its a big age gap apparently. However I never feel the need to inform anyone why. I still even now, don't quite have a good lie for the age gap either.

My only Aunty I have is bed ridden and dying - She suffers from some awful rare chronic fatigue disease that no one in the country can help her with. and she cannot not afford the overseas treatment she needs.

I'm such a heartless bitch I can never seem care so much to send her a text. I never know what to say... "Hey, How are you?" well of course she's not well, what a fucked up question. I know I should physically drive over and see her. It hasn't happened yet and I know I will regret it if I don't go soon.

If I never allow myself to get close to anyone else it wont hurt as much to lose them right? Everyone is dying. If I pull myself away now I will never have to go through that staggering amount of grief that truly ruins ones entire life. It fucks it up so bad.

Yes I cracked. I had the mental breakdown I knew I would have eventually. Although I didn't know all this piece of my past would suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. I know why it did though.

I was baby sitting tonight up a quiet country road. The sort of road you never pass another car on. Well on the way home not only did I pass a car - I almost had a head on collision with it, and I was completely in the wrong. I have a horrendous habit of cutting corners - including blind corners. I only suffered from a fright thanks to my adequate swerving but it could have gone terribly wrong. Then it dawned on me. Who would actually notice if I died right then and there? to be honest I don't think any one would for along time. Hypothetically lets say everyone one in the other car was killed also - only a passer-by would find me, no one would notice me missing. I think I've finally pushed myself as far as I can away from everyone that ever mattered to me.

These days I never seem to see my Dad and when I do its never for more than 5 minutes, and I tend to avoid my Mum, as we just don't really get along peacefully anymore.

The splitting up of my parents a few months ago has driven everyone to go their separate ways.

Maybe no one wants to get close to anyone cause any one could die at any moment.

Its true. I shouldn't turn my back on the people who care. But I do.

If anyone I know ever reads this - Don't ever mention it to me, because A) I wont even remember writing this by the morning and B) This whole novel has been about denial anyway so I'm only going to lie about this touchy subject some more.