A World Without My Sister Who Everyone Loved
Okay, so imagine a world...but not just any world. A world without my sister, Sarah. I know, right? Sounds like a bad sci-fi movie premise. Like, "What if rainbows didn't exist?" Or, "What if puppies were...square?" Terrible! That's how I feel. Seriously.
Sarah wasn't just any sister. She was the sister. The one who knew everyone's birthday (even that weird second cousin twice removed). The one who could talk a squirrel out of its nuts (probably). And the one everyone, and I mean everyone, just adored.
Seriously, adored. Like, if you Googled "adored," her picture probably popped up. Maybe next to a Golden Retriever puppy. Because that's the level of adorableness we're talking about. Am I exaggerating? Maybe. But only a little. Okay, a lot. But she was genuinely, truly lovely.
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The Social Butterfly, Wingless Variety
She was the ultimate social butterfly. Except, you know, without the wings. Though, honestly, if anyone could convince natural selection to give humans wings, it'd be her. She could charm the socks off a grumpy hedgehog. And let's be real, those guys are notoriously difficult to please.
Parties without her? A little dull. Family gatherings? Noticeably less sparkly. Weddings? Who's going to get Grandma to do the Macarena now? Answer: No one. Absolutely no one. My Macarena skills are, shall we say, underdeveloped.
Remember that time she convinced the waiter to give our entire table free desserts just by batting her eyelashes and telling a slightly embellished story about rescuing a kitten from a tree? Yeah, me too. I’m still trying to figure out how she did that. Was it the kitten? Was it the eyelashes? Was it sheer, unadulterated charisma? Probably a combination. I need to take notes.
She just had this...presence. This aura. This...thing. I don't know what to call it. Magic? Maybe. Annoying? Sometimes. Because, let's be honest, being the "less loved" sibling can sting a little. But mostly amazing.
The Void, the Emptiness, the...Slightly Quieter Room
So, a world without that? A world where the room is just a little quieter, a little less bright? It's hard to picture. It’s like trying to imagine pizza without cheese. Possible, technically. But why would you want to?
I mean, who's going to tell me I have food in my teeth? Who's going to lend me clothes (that I inevitably spill something on)? Who's going to understand my completely irrational fear of pigeons? Mom tries, but she just tells me to "shoo them away." Helpful, Mom. Really helpful.
She always knew how to make me laugh, even when I was convinced the world was ending because I burned the toast. "It's just toast!" she'd say, with that infuriatingly cheerful grin. "We can order pizza!" And then, inevitably, we would.
It's not all doom and gloom, though. Okay, maybe a little doom and gloom. But mostly just...different. A different kind of normal. A normal where I have to try harder to be the fun one. A normal where I have to remember everyone's birthdays myself (panic!). A normal where I have to face the pigeons alone (shivers).
But also, a normal where I get to carry her spirit. Her kindness. Her ridiculously contagious laugh. It's a big responsibility. A scary responsibility. But also? A privilege. You know?
She taught me so much. How to be a better person. How to forgive. How to rock a sequined dress. Okay, maybe I haven't mastered the sequined dress part yet. But I'm working on it!
So, yeah, a world without my sister. It sucks. Plain and simple. But it's also a world where I get to try to fill her shoes (which, by the way, are fabulous and I totally plan on borrowing them). And that, I think, is something pretty special.
It’s a world that will forever be changed, shaped by the love and laughter she brought into it. A world, I hope, where her memory continues to shine as brightly as she always did.
