Hey Sis,
I can't believe it's been 10 years since we last spoke on your 25th birthday. I'll always remember that conversation and your hilarious comment about Grandpa being so racist that he'd shout at the TV when a black person won on The Price is Right. Writing this letter is something I've thought about for a long time, but just couldn't get the balls to write it. No one in our family has ever dealt with emotional pain well, always opting for some drug, alcohol or food to avoid our feelings and ease our broken minds. The day Mom called to tell me you were dead was the worst day of my life, everything in me went cold and numb. I'm not sure how I made it through the following days, I just remember being weirded out by Mom and Dad standing next to each other at your funeral, Sarah and I knew you'd have felt the same. Oddly I don't feel much different or older since we last talked but holy shit have things changed! You'd absolutely shit yourself if you could see me now; I'd also like to think you'd be really proud of me.
The 22 year old graduate student you left behind, morbidly obese with a sedentary life and shitty eating habits, drunk more often than not, and a mean streak like a viper; she's totally changed. It took place so gradually I'm not even sure how the hell it happened. Things got worse before they got better. When you first left I kind of lost my shit and took to getting utterly wasted and being reckless, laughing madly as I drove around Denver knowing full well that I was compromising everything I had, my license, my degree, my freedom and even my life; I didn't care and it scared me.
I want to sincerely thank you, Amanda. Your death caused a couple of shifts that I'll be forever grateful for; mostly that it brought me closer to Sarah and made me take stock of my own life. It reminded me that no one knows how much time they've got left and if there's something we want to do we'd better damn-well get on with it. At some point all the times I felt disgusted with myself and my body became too much so I decided to lose weight but went on a bit of a different diet than you did, though everyone believed I'd just become addicted to crack too, hahaha. The first time Mom saw me after I'd lost about half the weight she couldn't hug me because I looked so much like you. Everyone at the bar back home kept mistaking me for you as well, which gave me mixed feelings of shame and pride. Still more years of seemingly endless trial and error in the pursuit of happiness led me through countless changes; I left my PhD program, spent some time with a guy I thought I'd marry (I'll spare you those details!), moved to Kansas of all places, burned through many jobs low and high from McDonald's to Pharmaceutical Management, and finally found myself in New Zealand where I finally figured out how I could find peace and happiness within myself, or at least as much as I'm likely to obtain. You'll never believe it but I'm a health and fitness coach, personal trainer and Pilates instructor! I can almost hear you saying, "what the fuck is pilates?!"
Sometimes I miss you so bad it stops me in my tracks, a distinct pain I feel in my chest. I'll look at a phone and want to call you, hear your voice. I unexpectedly found a couple of letters you had written me from jail a few years ago; I read them from time to time, laugh at your horrible spelling and smile at your descriptions of jailhouse antics. Mostly I wonder what you would say, so many things things have drastically changed in this crazy world since you left, no doubt it would involve copious amounts of swearing. I'm sorry for the times your addictions made me distance myself from you. As I get older and become more aware of my own mental demons, I can't imagine how badly you suffered and feel comforted by the fact that wherever you or, you're better off there then you were here. I keep my share of you and your many body piercings in a pretty blue bag that hangs on my wall; I bet you never thought you'd live in New Zealand! Luckily the people at customs didn't notice I had illegal ashes in my pack. You'd be happy to know you slightly resemble cocaine now, and Sarah and I used to joke that you'd snort yourself if you were here.
I think what scares me the most now is that all I have are memories which no doubt have been distorted over time, but since you were a pathological liar I doubt you'd have an issue with that, haha. What's real are my memories of the odd combination of cold metal and soft lips when you'd kiss my cheek as well as your voice; how it sounded when you said "You are my heart, I love you Summie" so many times that night you were drunk and high, and I had brought my ultimate frisbee team up from Rochester for a game in Canada. I was so fucking embarrassed then, but I'm thankful now that it was burned into my brain.
I'm not sure when we'll meet again or what our bodies will look like, but I look forward to the day I'll recognise your Soul and smile, probably as you slap me for some reason or another.
Love You Sis,
Summie
I can't believe it's been 10 years since we last spoke on your 25th birthday. I'll always remember that conversation and your hilarious comment about Grandpa being so racist that he'd shout at the TV when a black person won on The Price is Right. Writing this letter is something I've thought about for a long time, but just couldn't get the balls to write it. No one in our family has ever dealt with emotional pain well, always opting for some drug, alcohol or food to avoid our feelings and ease our broken minds. The day Mom called to tell me you were dead was the worst day of my life, everything in me went cold and numb. I'm not sure how I made it through the following days, I just remember being weirded out by Mom and Dad standing next to each other at your funeral, Sarah and I knew you'd have felt the same. Oddly I don't feel much different or older since we last talked but holy shit have things changed! You'd absolutely shit yourself if you could see me now; I'd also like to think you'd be really proud of me.
The 22 year old graduate student you left behind, morbidly obese with a sedentary life and shitty eating habits, drunk more often than not, and a mean streak like a viper; she's totally changed. It took place so gradually I'm not even sure how the hell it happened. Things got worse before they got better. When you first left I kind of lost my shit and took to getting utterly wasted and being reckless, laughing madly as I drove around Denver knowing full well that I was compromising everything I had, my license, my degree, my freedom and even my life; I didn't care and it scared me.
I want to sincerely thank you, Amanda. Your death caused a couple of shifts that I'll be forever grateful for; mostly that it brought me closer to Sarah and made me take stock of my own life. It reminded me that no one knows how much time they've got left and if there's something we want to do we'd better damn-well get on with it. At some point all the times I felt disgusted with myself and my body became too much so I decided to lose weight but went on a bit of a different diet than you did, though everyone believed I'd just become addicted to crack too, hahaha. The first time Mom saw me after I'd lost about half the weight she couldn't hug me because I looked so much like you. Everyone at the bar back home kept mistaking me for you as well, which gave me mixed feelings of shame and pride. Still more years of seemingly endless trial and error in the pursuit of happiness led me through countless changes; I left my PhD program, spent some time with a guy I thought I'd marry (I'll spare you those details!), moved to Kansas of all places, burned through many jobs low and high from McDonald's to Pharmaceutical Management, and finally found myself in New Zealand where I finally figured out how I could find peace and happiness within myself, or at least as much as I'm likely to obtain. You'll never believe it but I'm a health and fitness coach, personal trainer and Pilates instructor! I can almost hear you saying, "what the fuck is pilates?!"
 |
| The ASS Sisters: Amanda, Summer and Sarah |
I think what scares me the most now is that all I have are memories which no doubt have been distorted over time, but since you were a pathological liar I doubt you'd have an issue with that, haha. What's real are my memories of the odd combination of cold metal and soft lips when you'd kiss my cheek as well as your voice; how it sounded when you said "You are my heart, I love you Summie" so many times that night you were drunk and high, and I had brought my ultimate frisbee team up from Rochester for a game in Canada. I was so fucking embarrassed then, but I'm thankful now that it was burned into my brain.
I'm not sure when we'll meet again or what our bodies will look like, but I look forward to the day I'll recognise your Soul and smile, probably as you slap me for some reason or another.
Love You Sis,
Summie
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