August 6th

Today, my little sister would have turned 37. I always remember her birthday, as it falls on the anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima. I find it easier to remember birthdays if they fall on a historical day.
When we were little, we fought, a lot. She was the sibling who was closest in age to me (2 ½ years). My mother always called us “The Little Girls” as opposed to “The Older Kids” (my 4 older sisters and brothers). In spite of the fact we were close in age, we were complete opposites. I was a good kid, quiet, smart, thoughtful; but she was out going, rebellious, living in the moment sort of kid. We would play games and part way through, when I was beating her badly, and she would quit. And eventually, that would lead to a fight, which would often become physical. We would bite and scratch and pull hair. When we became teenagers, the physical fighting, became verbal. She was crabby and moody and I would push her buttons whenever I got the chance. She was the only person who I would allow to call me a bitch. I would just laugh because it meant I had hit the nerve I had wanted.
She will be gone for 10 years this October. There are days when I think about how different my life would have been if she had lived. I would not have to be worrying about whether or not my insurance will cover The Girl’s baby or how we are all going to fit into our post-war pre-fab house. Again, I suppose I would have different worries. And many of them still would have been about The Girl, they just would have been easier to ignore.
When The Girl was just a baby, I had a dream that I was dead. And I was walking through The Underworld (as in Greek mythology) and I came across my sister, her boyfriend and The Girl. I asked what they were doing there and my sister said they had killed The Girl and themselves. That is when I woke up, in a panic. It was terrible. Even though, my sister managed to get herself killed, she did not physically take The Girl with her, but sometimes, I think she took a part. Can we live with just a part of ourselves in this world? I suppose we do, everyone seems to lose bits of them selves here and there, but it seems wrong to lose those parts at the tender age of 6 and 4 (which is how old The Girl’s brother was when their mom died).

In spite of everything, I miss her. I miss being just an aunt. I miss fighting with her. There are still days when I think she will call and say “Hey what’s up?”, but I know that will not happen. She has moved on from this world.

So today, I wish my baby sister happy birthday, where ever she is. You are missed.
My little sister when she was little.

My sister and The Girl as a baby.