It's been Twelve years....

So tomorrow will mark the twelve year anniversary of the day my sister was killed.

I'm not saying this to make all of you feel sorry for me, or to make you think I'm trying to come across as a great "survivor" of a tragedy. That moment in my life should have no affect on how you view me, because that one moment in my life is what has made me exactly who I am today. Most of you reading this probably didn't meet me till after that time, so I hope it in no way affects the way you view me.

So today I am going to use my blog for as a means of cathartic release. If you don't want to read any further fine; if you decide to continue reading my post than I hope that you use my thoughts to make you realize just how important family is.

I'm not sure if my mind has blocked out the memories of my sister as a means of protection, or if I really just don't remember; either way, it hurts. I remember the day she was killed. I remember the noise the two cars made as the metal twisted and bent in ways not intended for motor vehicles. I remember the feel of the grass as I sat there on the side of the road in awe as they tried to retreive her body from the car. I've never forgotten the moments I sat with Kirsten on the same shoulder as she cried our of fear and shock. I remember Mr. Cathers trying to help the best way he knew how; and the best he knew to do was sweep up broken glass, lights, and bumper from the road using a broom and his cowboy hat. No amount of time will ever earse the feeling I had as the ambulance pulled away with my entire family as I still sat on the side of the road.

I don't know if anything will ever bring back the lost memories. As much as they may hurt I hope they do come back becuase I long to remember the sound of my sisters voice. I hope to one day remember what she looked like, and the expression of her face. I try to play back memories after looking at her picture, yet nothing comes to me. I want to be able to explain to my children how cool, smart, and funny their aunt was. I long for the day that I can easily remember how cool it was to have her as a sister, and all that she did for me.

Today, all I can remember is the faces of people, the smells, the sounds, the tangible feelings, and emotions. When I try to picture faces of my parents, my family, and most of all the faces inside the casket all I see is empty space.

Since the day my sister died, I've gone to her grave only twice. I've never been more angry at my parents for a single thing more than I am at the fact they buried her two hours away. I understand that most of my dads family is buried there, and that he will be buried there too, but why did they have to bury her out there?

I at times do not understand some of the things my parents did during this season in my life; but then I have to remind myself that no parent is equipped to handle a situation of that magnitude. No parent is taught how to prepare to bury their child after 18 years spend together; nor are they ever taught how to provide a 13 year old the emotional support they need during a time like that.

I remember the days after the funeral sitting out in my backyard staring up at the sky wondering what it was like up there. I remember Lisa and Lauren coming to visit me and bringing me all the homework I was missing at school. I remember returning back to school and everyone looking at me like I had two heads; and feeling like I was completely alone. I remember the first time I went back to Social Studies class and Mrs. Vehlwald couldn't teach the class she was crying so hard.

Now, 12 years later ther are still so many unanswered questions. Questions I am too afraid to ask, and even more afraid to hear the answers. I hope that someday I will be prepared to ask those questions and hear the answers; but now, 12 years later I am not.

Why did everyone have to be witness to the worst day of my life? How did my parents know to not let me ride with them to church? How did my mom and dad know that I would have been in the back seat of a car that would be rear-ended at 55 miles an hour? What exactly did my sister die of? I may never know. I would like to someday, but today is not that day.

I miss my sister now -12 years later- more than ever. I miss not having what so many other people have. I yearn to have a connection to someone close to my age that so many others have. I've missed out on so many experiences that others have on a daily basis.

I wish I knew the one thing that I could do/say that would bring my sister back. If I knew, I would do it every hour, of every day, for 12 years; in fact, I would do it every hour, of every day for the rest of my life if I knew that it would allow me to spend that very day with her, here, on earth.

Blog Abuse....$50 fine or 6 months prison

So yeah, I've totally neglected my new found venture in blogging. Sorry for all of you who actually read this or actually give a crap.

Well it's 8:26am on Sunday morning and I am sitting in my usual pre-church respite....St. Louis Bread Company on Tesson Ferry. I love this place, why? Not only is the food good, and good for you; but the people are so interesting to watch.

I don't really have anything all that interesting to talk about today. :( Let's see....Uhm....I've been really crabby lately does that count as interesting? No?! Yeah that's what I thought too.

Well I am done eating my breakfast, and I am going to enjoy the morning edition of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch....I'm sure something in that will piss me off enough to blog about. After all, I'm sure there will be a few articles about that f-tard Mr. Obama!

This is Colin.Always. reminding you: If y'a wan'a be somebody, if y'a go somewhere, y'a betta' wake up and pay attention!