I find that when a truly awful, traumatic thing happens, I cannot find solace on the internet. I can email a friend or two, poke around on Facebook, but no way can I “talk” about it there. I am finding it excruciatingly difficult to even write about it here. When the truly awful, traumatic thing happens to my sister, my heart simply clenches. She’s with me now, dazed, confused, traumatized, devastated. She stares blankly, unmoving, with her hand gently covering her mouth. And she cries in sudden bursts that wrench my soul.
The only reason I’m writing now is to try and unclench my heart by moving my fingers so that maybe tonight I can get the first real sleep that has been denied both of us for the past three days. Tomorrow the hard work of dissolution begins. I doubt she’ll get through more than one or two things on the very long list of mundane horrors.
How do you tell someone you love that happiness will come again someday when you don’t believe it yourself?
This past year has brought many endings for my family. This past year I have found a capacity for hatred deep inside me that I simply did not think was possible. Hatred for those who hurt others to preserve their personal myths, for those who refuse to admit their faults, for those who when faced with their own bad behavior, blame and slander others with lies of denial. But I’ve never felt this much hatred for anyone, as I do for the cowardly cretin who destroyed my sister. If curses are possible, there is a very mean one on his head.