I dreampt of her again last night. I dreamed that she wasn’t gone, but was right there with me. She stood unmarked by these last years of torment, smiling and strong, she’d finally decided to try going blonde. I felt safe and loved, and strengthened by her proximity and influence.
Then I remembered the funeral, and she faded away.
But that strength, that feeling of belonging, of acceptance, of truly unconditional love, I need to keep that with me.
I still get wakeful moments when I forget she’s gone. Just a split-second of reassurance followed by an unspeakable emptiness.
I’m so much like her. We could have been sisters, just generations apart. And in our precious time she has taught me to be strong but caring, tolerant but wilful.
I tried the crossword in the paper this weekend. I know we could have finished it together but there are still many blank spaces. I have much to learn still.