Sara Whitman

The Good Die

Filed By Sara Whitman | February 10, 2011 3:00 PM | comments

Filed in: Living
Tags: death of a sister, grief and dying

The good die and the assholes live, a colleague said to me yesterday. So painfully true.

kilarney.jpgI think about my sister every day. She is in my thoughts, always. In my dreams, she is smiling and happy. I can't shake the image of her dead when I'm awake. It is all I see. I know in time that will change.

My whole world is shaken, unsteady and unfamiliar now. Teaching has been an incredible gift to me. It gives me respite from what feels like constant sadness.

In time, that will change, too.

Loss brings up loss brings up loss. My mother has been haunting my dreams again. She is never happy with me. I am tired of this image. Awake, I know she would have been proud of me. Well, mostly proud.

Thus the dreams.

More losses come up - the loss of my family of origin. It is gone. Other losses too painful to write about, of childhood, and a father's love and so much more. It is, I have been told, the way we wade through death of someone close.

I have countless papers to go through, and I must clean out her house by February 28th. It is an impossible task. When I go over, I wander around in circles, and am easily overwhelmed.

I don't want to. I have to.

I know there are services to do such things but it feels wrong to me. The problem? I'm simply not ready to let go. It has been pointed out that I refused to believe she was dying when she was dying.

The good die. She is gone. Every day makes it less difficult to believe.

But no less painful.

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I can empathize. I lost my first real love 5 years ago January 24th. The last few weeks have been pretty dark. For what its worth, I've found that things improve over time. That empty aching hole never really seems to fill, but can be endured. I've been very grateful for your writing about your sister. Thank you.

I believe I had told you before I lost my brother to breast cancer two years ago.He was from Milford Mass and was treated at Dana Farber. He passed away at the Milford hospital early on a Sunday morning after a very long and emotionally draining night. For many months after his death I was tortured by many things.The thought of that long night of each and every breath he fought to take.Of things I wished I had expressed to him before his passing.The most difficult though of all the tortured look on his lifeless face.It takes time Sarah and lots of shed tears.I understand your pain and I wouldn't wish it on that still alive asshole. It's good that you can see in time that it will get better.It's also good that you have a way to vent your feelings.Hugs

Yesterday was a particularly hard day.

thank you...