Today is one of those days where I want to write but I don't know what words to use.
I feel as though I have a lot to say, or that there is a lot that I should say but every time I get close to revealing these words and emotions they get stuck in my throat and don't quite make it to my brain. Therefore my fingers can't relay them on paper/on word.
My sister's anniversary is an oxymoron.
I shall tell you why.
Every year, the rawness reopens but every year the wound heals faster and faster.
It makes it easier.
However, every year I realise that there is something I have forgotten. A little quirk or joke or something that once was hilarious is now a forgotten punchline and that prolongs the sadness.
I think it is the forgetfulness that upsets me most of all.
But you know what, the stuff that I remember, well that just cracks me up.
Marguerite's impressions of everyone were superb.
Truly superb. Especially her impressions of her teachers.
I have never had a talent for putting on accents
but my golly could she.
And she just used everything she learnt to amuse herself.
After she learnt that the ability to roll your tongue is a genetic trait, she tried to convince me I was adopted as I can't do it. It didn't matter that our brother or mother can't either. Or the fact that I had fallen for the old adoption trick years before and it had been dispelled our mum through a detailed description of my birth.
All in all, she was an O'Dwyer in that there was absolute divilement in everything she did.
I guess anniversaries are a time of reflection and it is only natural that we feel sad.
I guess that is one of the reasons I love my blog and my journal so much. I have spent the last decade sharing and writing and all of the memories that don't come to the fore of my mind are here, somewhere.
A teacher of mine told me once that writing was going to be the one thing that pulled me through my grief. Thankfully I listened to her. And on days like today, when I don't know whether I'm coming or going, I read back over all that encouraged writing. I smile, I cry, I laugh and I remember and most importantly, I realise how lucky I was to have a wonderfully, entertaining sister for seventeen years of my life.