Today would have been my sister Penny's 33rd birthday. On November 19, 1995 she was killed by a drunk driver. While time and life experiences have helped me tremendously to heal, the grief never leaves. There is a scar and some days it aches. Today it ached.
I woke up with the ache and fought it off in decluttering and cleaning. But I thought of her amidst the sorting, recycling and vacuuming. I wondered what she would be like today. She certainly was a pistol from day one. She was born 3 weeks prematurely and created such a ruckus in the operating room (she was born c-section) that a few nurses ran down the hall to see what was happening. She was cute, but full of fire and knew how to push everyone's buttons.
She had a way with words, facial expressions
Happy Birthday Sis. I think of you often and miss you just as much. I still search for any resemblance of you in unfamiliar faces and look for hints of your personality in interactions with strangers and friends alike.
Here at home we keep your memory alive looking at old photographs, reminiscing over times past and keeping a few your things out in the house. I may not talk about you often, but know you're always in my heart.
A Crabbit Old Woman
10 hours ago