Legacy

My sister and I always competed against each other for attention from our parents. Perhaps, the moment that came to my mind as I recalled when we danced with Marigolds in our hair. One of the rare moments Rose and I played together without trying to dominate. It was Spring as little girls, where we braided together crowns of dandelion, marigolds, and mums from the garden. The smell of Lilac in the breeze as we crowned each other. Listening to Paula Abdul as we danced barefoot on the grass. Finding a moment to just be and love.

After dancing until our feet grew tired. We laid in the grass looking up. Watching the clouds and jets passing us by. Imagining where all the people on the jets were flying to. When the jets left, we would watch the clouds. Speaking out loud and pointing at clouds we could see as a shape of something familiar. This was probably the last time we truly knew each other.

Picking out my black dress, I tucked the memory the marigolds away. Had I only known, I would have called more. That’s what we always wish for more of, isn’t it? More time. Time to do what we put off doing. If only there were more money, I could. If only there were this resolved, I could. If only I could find the courage, I could start.

There weren’t any more chances, at least not with her. The jury on the life I lived at was still out. What was there to say about Rose? She loved yellow. She was a cat mom. She loved to cheer others up, because deep down, Rose hid a dark depression. One I thought, only I was plagued with. Had I known, could I have saved her? I didn’t though, did I? I didn’t know.

The funeral director handed out a pill to each of us. One to calm my parents and I, because you are not supposed to bury someone this young. Not even middle aged. A young woman of thirty-five. What demons plagued her. The ones that plague me.

Putting on my shoes, I hear its time. Her condition didn’t require pall bearers. Thirty-five years fit into a decorative urn to place on mom’s mantle. What legacy did she leave behind? I only know the erratic, artistic side that took her wherever the wind took her. Vibrant like the yellow marigolds that smiled at the sun. Not the most obvious beauty, as not everyone came close enough to unfold through the petals to see the beauty within. Rose kept others out quite well, we both did. Wondering now if I reached out more, would we all be here today?

Too wrapped up in my own head to have been there for Rose. We were so much a like in many aspects, however night and day in the way we saw things. Each with our own ways of dealing with our painful pasts. Looking around the room seeing what legacy Rose left behind.

No one was shocked and each person looked upon me as if I were next. They all knew we were troubled sisters. Trying each day to chase whatever alleviated the pain. Even if it was momentary and had repercussions. Those late nights where hope was replaced with your last dark thought. Robbing you of any light left within. The demons that grabbed hold of this family. Each generation giving way to new bumps in the night. Each one rooted deeper in our minds.

Our home looked like one that would be full of love and pleasantries. Each candy dish filled for company. The banisters neatly dusted and silver polished. Each item neatly placed and away. Pictures all in matching opulent frames. We captured smiles and laughter to keep everyone unknowing what truly lied behind our doors. Anger, hatred, and fear lined the walls as eggshells lined the floor. An emotion or independent thought were quickly tucked away.

The bruises and not so hidden scars brought to surface each night as either of us drank or shot up. What did Rose leave behind as a legacy? The scars on her wrist covered under a sweater picked out by my parents. Her skin was paler than usual warmed only by her auburn hair.

What did Rose leave behind as a legacy? A slide show of cats, art produced in a drunken stupor and perhaps a few friends. Never showing a degree, a Pulitzer Prize, no children, spouse, or scorned lover. Just a box of belongings and a decade of drinking. My sister, what legacy did she leave behind? My sister, what legacy shall I?