I oh-so-proudly present my first poem!
Please do not have any higher expectations for this than you would for an elementary school child who has just learned about rhyming. I think this poem may evolve over time. Even now, I want to re-word some pieces of it, but as it has been typed up on a real typewriter – changing it would be a pain in the butt.
It’s about the passing of time…and my hate of it, because last week was her three month death date (I will work on finding a more eloquent way to say that.) I’m 29 years old and it hit me that there is a high likelihood that I may have more years without a sister than I did with…and I do not like this at all. Mainly because, well, she was supposed to be around, wasn’t she? She’s my frickin’ little sister. We were supposed to grow old and batty together. We were supposed to continue to fight and drive each other insane well into our old age to further prove Mom wrong (she claimed we would “grow out of fighting”). We were supposed to have so many years left together that we could even have a huge enough fight that we didn’t speak for a few of them. AGdfS%@#4FJ24er$(#$@#*Ufd!!!!!
Next week, my family is coming to visit to celebrate me finally finishing up grad school. I can’t help but get semi-depressed. This is the first family get together without her. In my head, I can’t stop thinking of how she should be there. Just like she should be there next year if I get married and if I have a baby. (If you know me personally, you know these are highly unlikely events, but still – she should be around just in case.) She’s just supposed to be there for the good and the bad, the ups and downs, and everything in-between. But all the “supposed to” in the world, can’t bring the brat back to me. And. I. Hate. It.
And I dread the day when I can say that I’ve had more time without her in my life than with her.