There is this myth that perfect people don’t normally live long. They say that if a person is too perfect, that person is most likely going to die young. Most of the perpetrators of this story use Jesus as a case study. I don’t know how true this is but you shalewa, You were perfect and your death makes no sense.
There is something about death that cripples you and leaves you paralyzed in its wake, it’s almost as if your heart stops breathing and your breath ceases too. How do you digest that someone who meant the world to you, a living breathing element who you felt just a minute ago has ceased to exist? How do you cope? Where do you start?
I want to talk about all you meant to me and how my heart hurts but all that flows freely from me is tears. You were my other half, literally. Somehow, I feel like a part of me has died too which is weird because my heart is still beating. My lungs are playing a nasty game of hide and seek but they haven’t entirely ceased yet and yours is gone forever. No air in your lungs, no flush on your cheeks, no rhythm in your heart, You’re dead. Somehow saying this a lot of times is supposed to make it register in my heart that you’re gone forever but it’s not sticking. Maybe I just don’t want to believe it. You cannot be dead, it doesn’t make sense
In this moment, I think about all those videos and stories of people being raised from the dead and I almost want to grab your lifeless body and drop it at the alter. Isn’t it possible for God to bring you back to life? Can you be a miracle? My miracle. I think about this so much in my mind that I don’t know when I lift up my hands to command you rise from the dead but even as I do that, I know you’re not coming back. If he was going to raise you from the dead, why would he let you die in the first place? I think of Lazarus and I’m chided. I have so many questions shalewa, so many and it’s making me upset because I know you would have had answers. You always had answers. You loved with everything in you and gave to the best of your ability and somehow, you’re the dead one. Like I said, it doesn’t make sense.
I realize now that this letter is more for me than to you because the sad truth is that you’re gone. You’re in a much better place but what happens to me who is left here, missing you sick and crying till my eyes are numb? What happens to me? How do I live? How do I move on? How do I function? Where do I find the strength? What happens now? The truth is I don’t have the answers shalewa. Unlike you, I was never really the eloquent one. I don’t know what to do but I know that it’ll pass. I know this because I’ve seen people weep and get through it. You’ll be in my heart forever and your memories would forever remain like treasures in a glass chest – Fragile and precious but you’re gone and I’m here and so for your sake, I’ll live to the best of my ability. I will probably cry every time I remember your face or hear your voice in my head, my chest would hurt when I see your pictures, your memories would randomly pop into my heart and cause me to remember this heartache, I would have moments when it feels like I’m drowning in my sorrow but I will get through it shalewa. For your sake and mine, I will. I will continue from where you stopped and be a light. Thanks for stepping in front of me and taking that bullet. Those armed robbers would rot in hell but I’ll forgive them because that’s what you’ll have wanted. It should have been me but you took my place. I miss you.
With an aching heart,
Your twin sister