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No one had talked about that day, not in five years. I had pushed myself away from everybody in an attempt to forget, but you never can. Memories always have to do that don't they? To just seem to disappear and finally leave you in peace only to appear again when you hear a phrase or smell a certain smell that reminds you of the time you desperately want to forget. It's cruel, having to live with the memory of something that can so easily pull you apart. I have memories and the inevitability of living with awful ones.
The last glimpse of her was on the number one platform of Grey River Station. I was coming down the stairs when I saw her stepping into the first carriage of a train. I dropped my bag and took a dozen steps in two crazy leaps, but too late. The doors closed and the train began to move. That was it. I was so close to telling her everything, all of the truth in me, and she was gone.
She was my sister and I was never going to see her again. Of course at the time, I hadn't known that. I had to confess everything to her, why her boyfriend had to leave and why I stopped opening up. I had opted writing a letter instead, writing a text or call it wouldn't be enough to explain why she was in the situation she was in. I walked away half-heartedly, however because I wanted to finally tell her in person.
I was going to tell her about her boyfriend's depression. About how he couldn't live with knowing he was putting Kayla through as much misery that he was dealing with himself. He had to leave without telling her, if he killed himself he knew very well it would kill her too. She had no idea about any of it, for awhile she had brought him to his feet and he hadn't felt depressed in so long, but happiness in his situation is only short lived.
I made him confess to me when I caught him in a Mcdonalds that night. It was four am, I had driven out to find a place to write my finals essay in peace. He had puffy red eyes and looked liked a wreck and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me. A coffee and a long talk later he explained that he was driving as far as he could to get away. He hadn't told Kayla and he wasn't on planning doing so, he wanted to leave without her noticing as of to make the break up less hard on her. He admitted to me his battle with his disorder and how tiring it was, he couldn't put her through that. I nodded and tried to understand, but I didn't. I didn't understand how could you just disappear on someone without saying goodbye or looking back. For any reason.
She never knew she didn't know why he left or where he went. She was in denial for so long, she moped around and watched sad movies and listened to sad songs. It was a typical post breakup reaction and I now wish I had been more kind to her during it. I didn't exactly react the best way.
I've never been in a relationship like that before and I didn't understand how hard it really was to get over somebody leaving you. I treated her somewhat like a child, something I now sincerely regret.
She eventually got over him and moved on with her life, decided to use the next year travelling around the country. That's when I last saw her, the day I decided to tell her why I stopped being her sister and why the boy she loved disappeared. The train dropped her off in some remote country town and she was found dead the next morning in an alley, the police came to the conclusion that she was the target of a hit and run. I never told her what she was so desperately trying to find out, and I would never forgive myself.
The next year or so is a blur of grief. I spent little time out of the house, a lot of time alone in my room and stacks after stacks of movies so I could lose myself in the protagonist's problems as compared to the lack of Kyla. We didn't always get along, but she was my sister and my friend. There's nothing quite like mourning a friend.
To this day I still miss her. When any mention of Harry Potter comes about I am flooded with memories of every saturday "family movie night" in which she would force the family to watch the movies for the hundredth time. When I smell vanilla I am reminded of her favourite perfume. "Teenage dirt bag" reminds me of the nights in which we would jump on my bed and scream along to our favorite songs. Her memory follows me wherever I go and I can never escape it.
Sometimes it's like an arrow to the chest, but sometimes I smell the vanilla or hear the opening tune to "the half blood prince" I can't help but smile. When I'm in the car, driving to work, and the first few, oh so familiar lyrics of her favourite "wheatus" song, I can't help but sing along the way we would in my memories.
I don't know much about God's great plan for me or anything about what life is truly about, I'm just a 23 year old Girl with messy brown hair and thick glasses. However, I have learnt this: grief can pull you apart, but the memories can pull you back together. And that is what Kayla, my bright eyed ball of energy that is my sister, has taught me.
Have a great day!
I'm hoping that now that this article is up I'll feel more motivation to write something. For it!