Saturday, July 16, 2011

17 Years...To the Day

I am fifteen years old. I was born in 1995.
My sister would be twenty, had it not been for the events of July 16th, 1994.

It's amazing how time can turn on you, throw a dagger at you when you're least expecting it, and tear your love to shreds and morphing it into an imperfect statue of grief. An abstract painting of crimson love, blue grief, yellow sorrow. I may never have known my sister, but I know what she means to my parents, who mourn this day with every fiber of their beings. The older I get, the more I realize how special I am to them.

It's been seventeen years for them. I'm never sure how to react on this day. I feel a little hole in my chest, one that pangs with the pain I see my parents endure. My own pain? I wouldn't say it's a pain that I have...I'm not sure what I would call it. Not even writing can describe some feelings. My chest feels compressed, and I feel drained. I feel like I'm waiting for something, but for what? This is what I feel on this day.


Music pounded from the computer room where Dad played music on the stereo, music from his day and music that my mother and he both loved. Guns n' Roses, Journey, Meatloaf...but mainly Guns n' Roses for the moment. Mom fixed dinner, humming along with the lyrics, while I sat at the table listening to my own music. I'm not a fan of theirs. Mom looked up when the music stopped suddenly.

"You're about to get really mad at me," Dad called.

"What did you do? Find Shine?" Mom asked. She didn't get a reply. I paid it to mind.

About a minute later I heard a piano arpeggio in minor, and Mom grew stiff where she was standing. A long melody, full of happiness and sadness and wonder filtered the rooms in the house. Mom raced into the living room, taking me by surprise.

"Turn that off! Turn it off. That will not play in this house while I'm home!"

She waited, and the music stopped. Choked up, she muttered, "Thank you," and walked back into the kitchen. She kept her back to me. I stood up and went to stand beside her.

"Mom? What was that song? What was wrong with it?"

"N-November Rain." She hesitated. Then she whispered, "It was her song."


Needless to say, curiosity about the music my sister liked made me go grab my laptop and look the song up. I've never cared for the singer of Guns n' Roses, but this song...not even the fact it was my sister's song, just the song itself, brought tears to my eyes. The lyrics are beautiful, the song is so well-played. That explains Song of the Week.

It was one of those songs that strikes a chord in your soul and lifts your heart up.

I doubt they would approve of me sharing these moments with the public, but I think some people fail to realize how much it hurts a family. They certainly don't see how much it affects me. When people ask me, "Do you have brothers or sisters?" I reply, "Sort of." They give me a funny look, and when I explain, they get all awkward and say, "Sorry." Why are you sorry?

No one should be sorry. No one should be guilty. It was just a big, dumb accident.

She's somewhere up there watching over everyone. Sorry for any atheists that read this, but this is my firm belief and I'll stick to it. Maybe I never knew her, but I know something we would have had in common: we both knew nothing lasts forever, not even November Rain...


Listening to: November Rain - Guns n' Roses
Watching: -
Reading: Iron Queen by Julie Kagawa, Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, Chasing Fire by Nora Roberts
Quote: -

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