The past is remembered. Live in the moment. The future is in you.
-Mike Caceres, who is a blogger, hiker, and traveler
As I sit here on a very hot day in front of my sister's grave, I reminisce the moments I had with her.
Surprisingly, as of now, I survived the last 13 years without her. She died only at 18 years old from a vast, devastating loss. (I was only 15 at the time. A few days later, I had to overcome my final exams.) I did not even witness her death. Importantly, she had a future ahead of her. (I should have been the one to die.) Now, my kids will never ever meet their Auntie Marrianne.
Few months before she died on the night of Saturday, May 17, 2003, she once told me, "Michael, if something happens to me. Just take care of my belongings. Figure out what you want to do with them."
Was this a sign that she will be dying soon?
Most people do not want to talk about death, in spite of, we are going to die eventually. Obviously, we just do not know when, how, and where we are going to die.
When I die, I would rather be cremated from Bios Urn, a biodegradable urn that brings you back from life as a tree. (That way, my mom has no concerns about buying flowers, trimming the grass around my stone, and shining my marble stone.) This similar (not exactly) concept reminds me of the tree-like creature superhero, Groot, who is published and illustrated from Marvel Comics, and also appeared from the movie, "Guardians of the Galaxy."
In his movie, Groot dies, however, a fellow friend keeps a splinter of his remains, then experimentally plants him from a pot. (Movie spoiler alert: It actually worked, and Groot slowly regrows.) Yes, Bios Urns will bring me back to life, except I am not exactly myself, unlike Groot. He repeatedly, famously tells me and everybody else, "I am Groot."
On to my sister's story. (Sorry, sister.) After she died, I was in denial for a few years. My only way to communicate with her was in my dreams. Every night, I dreamed about her as in she was still here. Even though it was my only means of communication, I barely slept. I had intentions and plans of committing suicide. It saddens me, every time, I talk about my sister's death in full details.
Today is her 32nd birthday.
She was my very first best friend. She was the smarter one, while I was only the athletic one. I never achieved any honor rolls. (Maybe once in 5th grade.) She enjoyed reading books, while I hated it. She was the clean, neat freak, whereas I was the messy one. She was better than me in everything, except sports. She introduced me to everything, such as music and style in clothes.
Together, we went to our first ever live music concert on July 22, 2001 at Network Associates Coliseum. (Now, the arena is known as Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum. Still the home of the NFL team, Oakland Raiders, and home of the MLB team, Oakland A's.) I swear I kept the concert ticket, somewhere, it is misplaced. We saw the pop boy band, 'NSYNC. She was a huge fan of them. Due to my very low self-esteem, I secretly liked 'NSYNC at the time. I was never proud of myself. I worried about what others would think about me. (Now, I can say, "I love 'NSYNC.")
She was my life saver, who I can reach out to, for everything. I need help writing my English paper. She was there. I need to vent. She was there. I need help with what clothes should I wear for a party. She was there. I need a ride from tennis practice. She was there.
You get the point that she was always there for me.
The only thing that scared my sister were spiders. Before she goes to bed, she checked her surroundings, if there were any spiders laying around. If she found one, like say, on the ceiling, she called me to kill it. I was scared too. (Now, I sleep without checking any spiders. Sorry, sister.) I forced myself to kill the spider, and I did. Given for what my sister has completely done for me, I insisted to do this. I had many ways in killing a spider from faraway, like vacuuming or spraying it.
We had our arguments as well. There is no such thing as a perfect relationship. Like I said on my previous blog, I was a dumb kid. From only writing this blog, I finally realized that I take blame for most of our arguments. I had a huge ego.
When my sister was gone, I asked myself, "What could have I done better, when my sister was still alive?" Heck, I would not take initiative from our arguments. (It was my fault, sister.) I would forget about it the next day, and act normal to my sister. Surprisingly, she accepted it. (Sometimes, give her a few days to forget about the situation, but it depends on what type of argument it was.) Look, I cannot even mention at least one argument with my sister to you. That is how horrible of a person I am.
How can I ever learn, then? I was always Mr. Right. The idiot kid I was. I try to avoid regretting things, but I personally regret this. (I can no longer make up for it, since she is gone.) Now, I like to talk things out. Communication is the key. If only, she was still alive.
I only spent 16 years with my sister. Be happy, or else she will not. Since 2003, I have became a better person mentally, physically, socially, and spiritually. (Even myself, nobody is perfect.)
Photo from below is my sister celebrating her 8th birthday in East Meadow, NY. This douchebag steals the first slice from her birthday cake. (No wonder, my name was not on the cake.) I love you, sister. Happy birthday. Make a wish. (Now, I will not be able to steal your first slice anymore, needless to say, the cake is all to myself.)
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