Everyone has always said I look like Bailey, but I don't.I have grey eyes to her green, an oval face to her heart-shaped one,I'm shorter, scrawnier, paler, flatter, plainer, tamer. All we shared is a madhouse of curlsthat I imprison in a ponytailwhile she let hers ravelike madnessaround her head.I don't sing in my sleepor eat the petals off flowersor run into the rain instead of out of it.I'm the unplugged-in one, the side-kick sister, tucked into a corner of her shadow. Boys followed her everywhere; they filled the booths at the restaurant where she waitressed, herded around her at the river. One day, I saw a boy come up behind herand pull a strand of her long hairI understood this-I felt the same way. In photographs of us together, she is always looking at the camera, and I am always looking at her.
Jandy Nelson
death family boys day shadow grief eyes rain green river face sister photographs eat sing boy run head jandy-nelson the-sky-is-everywhere
My sister will die over and over again for the rest of my life. Grief is forever. It doesn't go away; it becomes a part of you, step for step, breath for breath. I will never stop grieving Bailey because I will never stop loving her. That's just how it is. Grief and love are conjoined, you don't get one without the other. All I can do is love her, and love the world, emulate her by living with daring and spirit and joy.
life daring death rest world sadness living loving spirit loss grieving joy breath grief stop sister forever die part love
As I walk through the redwood trees, my sneakers sopping up days of rain, I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes, when grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.
death grief death-of-a-loved-one
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