“That is, the full impact of our brother’s or sister’s death begins to seep into our consciousness at precisely the same time when others might expect us to be feeling better.” ~ T.J. Wray, Surviving the Death of a Sibling: Living Through Grief When an Adult Brother or Sister Dies

I do not want to say I “hate” being asked, but it can become awkward when I am asked how many siblings I have. My sister has been gone for over twenty years now, and I still am triggered whenever I am asked. Do I tell them that I have two? But then they may ask where they live and what their professions are. Then I will have to say that one passed away. Things then become awkward and some start to apologize profusely. Some even ask how long it has been, and when I say that it has been over twenty years, some will shrug as if to indicate that it has been long enough.

Or do I just say one and leave it at that? But then I feel as though I am forgetting about my sister, and she deserves to be recognized as my sibling even though she is no longer here.

It is amazing how a simple question can be so complicated to answer.

Yes, it has been over twenty years since my sister passed away. I suppose one can argue that I should be “over” her death. And yes, in many ways, I am “over it” in that I do not cry every day anymore. And I may not even miss her every day anymore, but I do miss her, in a way that maybe one would miss their limb if it was amputated. I am sure that as time passes by, a car accident victim would get “over” losing their limb in an accident, but would they wish that they could have their limb back, if at all possible? I say, absolutely, yes.

Even though I no longer miss her every day, I actually miss her more. I miss her more whenever I see my parents growing older, on holidays when the lack of her presence is glaring, on her birthday, on the anniversary of the day she passed away, and most especially when I want to talk to someone who was a part of my childhood and who I had expected to be with me to the very end of my own life.

Billy Bob Thornton talked of his feelings about losing his brother. I echo everything he said:

“I’ve only had a couple of times in my life when I was carefree… For a couple of years I felt OK, which is very rare for me, and then he died. I’ve never trusted happiness since.”

“I have to really force myself to think that things are going to be OK in terms of worrying about my family, myself or one of my friends. I’ve never been the same since my brother died. There’s a melancholy in me that never goes away. I’m 50 percent happy and 50 percent sad at any given moment.”

“I don’t want to forget what it felt like when he died, because he deserves [that remembrance]. That’s how important he was to me. So, if I have to suffer and I have to be sad for the rest of my life, and if I have to be lonely without him… then that’s the way I honor him.”

“I’ll be sad and melancholy about that forever. I know it and I accept it and I live with it, but I think it’s OK. I think it’s OK to have all those feelings.”

“As an artist, that’s where a lot of your stuff comes from. You keep honoring those people forever by singing that song or writing that movie or doing that part in the movie or writing a book, whatever it is that has a sadness and a melancholy and a fear in it. Those are the things that keep them alive — whatever you put into your work or your family or your art.”