No One Asks the Siblings

Don’t get me wrong, being a parent and losing a child is… tough, to say the least. Unbearable may be a better term. Hell, maybe that’s a better word. It is hell to lose a child. It’s customary to ask a bereaved parent how they’re holding up, usually, after such a tremendous loss. But no one ever asks the kids, the siblings, how we’re doing.

I grew up always afraid when my parents were arriving home late that something bad happened. “Why aren’t they home yet? They should be here by now. What if they got into a terrrible accident?” But not once did I think about the possibility that something could happen to one of my siblings. Strange, isn’t it? You always believe you will grow old together with them. That’s what you’re always supposed think. Getting older, having kids and being aunts and uncles together. You grew up seeing it with your parents. So why didn’t it get to happen for me?

I lost my little sister, aged 17, when I was 20. That was 8 years ago, now, going on 9. Life has not been the same. Life has not gotten easier—in fact, I feel it has gotten harder. Coping with this loss has been practically impossible. I believe I’m still in the “Anger” stage in the Grief timeline. Because I am angry. I always will be, I fear. My sister should be here, laughing with me, playing with my kids, the nephews she so desperately wanted to be an Aunt to. So yes, I am still angry, and no, I will not get better.

I don’t get to hear her laugh, see her smile, feel her hand in mine as we relax and rewatch our favorite shows, movies, or YouTube videos. Markiplier and PewDiePie were our favorites in High School. I often rewatch old videos her and I watched together. It gives me a small shred of comfort. Sometimes it gets harder to rewatch those videos and movies. Lord of the Rings 2 years ago hit very hard. When “The End” came across the screen… I broke down. “What do you mean it‘s ‘The End’?” Every time something happened in the movies I would turn and expect to see her sitting next to me, or laughing and talking with me. But I was by myself.

We don’t get to tell jokes to each other, take walks, or read books together, speaking our minds on what we think. We don’t get to listen to our favorite songs and sing horribly and loudly. I get none of that. We get none of that.

I haven’t been asked how I’m doing since her viewing. I can’t just move on from this empty space that now occupies my heart, my life. I can’t accept this weight of knowing that I will never see her again. I am still hurting. I will always hurt. And no one knows this because they never ask me. I’ve practiced being okay for a long time, longer than some may know, but with something like this, I just wish someone actually cared about me and ask how I was. Ask how my mom is doing, how my family is doing. Just because you see us laughing doesn’t mean we are miraculously healed Or over this loss.

My anxiety has gotten worse, I live in a constant fight or flight mindset. I have lost family and friends, I have practically no one in my corner. I am… alone.

And maybe that’s why no one asks me how I am. I have nothing remotely positive to say, and no one wants to hear the negatives in my life. I won’t apologize for how I am feeling in regards to my mental health, because I am not okay, and I don’t think it’s right to apologize for how one feels when they are still grieving. But if no one wants to hear my woes… then I can’t fault them for that. But I want to feel cared for, too. I lost my sister, my best friend, a part of myself when she passed. Maybe I also grieve that—the person I was when I felt whole.

I know it may be selfish to feel this way. But am I not allowed that? To be selfish for once in my life, and wish that people would help me? To ask about me, to check in… I am in a hole. A hole so dark and so deep that I wonder if I’ll ever find a way out. I try, but I think I’m just stuck.

I was told before by people that “God never takes away from you without replacing it with something better!” I by no means intend to offend anyone, but hearing this infuriated me. I never wished for my sister to be taken away, and I certainly never wished for her to be replaced. Some have told me that my beautiful children, whom I love to death, I do, with my entire being I love them, should be evidence of that. My children, my husband, and my sister are all different loves. I would never consider my children a replacement for my sister. They are entirely different beings, loves and relationships. No one should replace my sister, and no one could replace my children, or the love I hold for them.

I guess this little… rant, if you will, is barely a scratch on the surface of how I feel, grieving after 8 years. I am by no means a professional when writing my feelings out, or explaining how I feel. This isn’t an essay, just my raw emotions spilling over the keys.

But I would like any people out there who is suffering from the grief of sibling loss and feel unseen: I hear you, I see you.