Sisters are angels

I have three amazing sisters and I love each of them to bits. The one that inspired this story though was only eight at the time. She didn't even know that she was lifting my spirit, she was just being her carefree little self. Too often we take these small moments for granted and I want to encourage you to stop and appreciate the people in your life. Especially siblings, especially at a young age when it seems like you'll be fighting forever. In the same light also be encouraged to lift others whenever you can, whether they desperately need it or not, I can guarantee they will appreciate it. A smile doesn't cost anything. Happy reading:

Free spirit

With the vast ocean in front of me that I saw the last time as a child, I start to admire the wonders of it. A blue blanket covering all beautiful colours underneath. We take it for granted so easily and take time to admire the sight instead of what the eye cannot see.

I never truly recovered from my sister's death. It all happened so fast and yet it felt like her misery was too long to bear with. She wasn’t even supposed to be there, I was. Dad never forgave me, off course he claimed he did, but his eyes told a different story. In his eyes, and in his heart, was hate.

After her death everything started falling apart. Only meaninglessness was found in the seconds that passed. Vanessa was the only one who managed to stay hopeful, but only because she was born shortly after Amara’s departure and didn't understand what happened. It made everything worse that mom was pregnant with her when Amara died. If my heart could speak it would boldly proclaim that it irritated me that Vanessa didn't mourn the loss we faced.

But that was then.

It felt like we weren't living, merely surviving. I was no longer myself, because the half of me that stayed optimistic died along with Amara. I couldn't understand why she could be so selfish, leaving us without notice. Every few days I had to remind myself that she didn't do anything wrong.

After six years of surviving my parents decided they had enough and took us on holiday to straighten out our lives and start living again. The beach was always a magical place for me, but without Amara I refused to allow seawater to touch my feet. It felt like I was allowing her to wash away with each wave that took the next one with it. One over the other over another. That's why I decided to stay away. I wouldn't let her be forgotten or replaced by the ever delightful, always smiling, newborn that was now six years old.

On the second week of holiday my mother made me go to the beach. Alone with Vanessa. I knew she could tell that I didn't accept Vanessa the way I should've, but I never thought she would expect that of me.

I've never heard silence as loud as that day on the way to the beach. As if the entire universe decided that would be the moment... when we got to the top of the dune I saw it, the beautiful ocean stretching its blue arms further than mine can go. Vanessa ran down directly into the shallow water not even caring whether she got wet, splashing and laughing. She ran out of the water. Grabbed a few rocks. Started throwing them at the water, after a few attempts I realized that she was trying to skip them on the water and one corner of my mouth curved up as the rocks plonked into the water like ice cream falling off a cone.

I quickly gathered the right rocks for skipping and explained to Vanessa how to use them. Soon the rocks were flying from every side and going quite far. For the first time in six years I was smiling. Not because I didn't want people to ask questions I had to answer, but because I was enjoying myself.

And as I looked back at Vanessa, her face was glowing as I've never realized before, with happiness I desired. My perspective transformed to see her every feature for what it truly was. Her smile stretched wide. Amara's familiar smile was right there on Vanessa's face. The eyes. The hair. The freckles. Even the nose. All of it. I just never wanted to admit it. And in that moment as I sunk into the ground with tears rolling down my face and my hands covering my mouth, I realized that my big sister would never be replaced nor forgotten, for she had simply taken a different shape in that little girl that I, for years, failed to accept as a sister.

When she saw me crying she fluttered to my side and said: "its okay, you can take my rocks and we'll throw them together and I don't need it all and I can share." I took her head with both my hands, soaked in tears, and pressed her so close to me I think she wasn't able to breathe for a few seconds and as I released her, I held onto her hands I said: "don't ever let go"

And she whispered softly into my ear: "she won't"