Friday, March 11, 2011

Miss you for always

I thought about this post for a long time, and each time I contemplated writing it, or what I would say, things ended in tears.

Today I was going to revisit the days leading up to my sister, Ansley's death.

I was going to write about the smell of spring, and the sense of a childhood lost that I get whenever I think about that day frozen in time.

I was going to write about what I miss, what makes me sad, what hurts the most about not having my little sister around anymore.

This was going to be a very sad post.

However, today I went to her myspace to revisit her blog, and I was overcome with unexpected happiness. Happiness because I remembered how full of life, even in the face of overwhelming despair and tragedy, she was. No matter what. Happiness because she strove to live each day to it's fullest and appreciate every tiny opportunity she was given. Not because she wanted to be "inspirational" or any such nonsense. It was honestly because she loved life and wanted to make each second count.

In honor of the third anniversary of her passing, I'd like to post this blog post of hers. Ansley wrote this on June 23, 2007.

I see wonderful things everywhere.
Then all these horrible happenings and petty annoyances ruin all of it. Hospitals ruining summers, diseases ruining lives, the lack of tomato in the school's veggie subs. Little imperfections tarnish the wonder.
But then, I go on Photobucket and find cool pictures.
I read a good book.
I listen to a song on repeat for an hour.
I remember the Silly Putty Incident and Dare Nite.
I plot and plan our next schemes for this summer.
I sing "King of New York"
And the world is better. Little stupid paperclip happiness. Even when the entire world crumbles around us, we have tuna cans and hobos and striped suspenders and waterballoons. That's enough. That's all I'm living for.
Hospital beds force you to sit with your thoughts. They force you to decide things about yourself.
Hospital beds are a lot like star-filled nights. Those nights where you lay on your back and wonder about eternity and realms beyond and life and death, watching those innumerable stars above you. You think about the same things when your stuck in a hospital bed day after day, year after year. But, just like trying to puzzle out those mysteries in your starry night, no answers unraveling the great universe have come clear in a hospital bed either. Not to me. Not yet.

Tomorrow, the official anniversary of her death, I will be very busy with multiple rehearsals and a late night shift. But I think that's how she would want it. She wouldn't want me to wallow. She would want me to live my life with intensity. And I'm going to. In fact, I'm going to live it with double the gusto, double the adventure, and double the love. One for me and one for her.

P.S.  Please check out her blog. It's a little outdated (myspace!) but well worth the read. Especially if you want to know more about the funny, creative, talented, vivacious girl who was my sister.


  1. This is a wonderful post! So sweet! And what she said, it is all too true! Truly words to live by!

  2. I didn't know her very well, but the one thing that stands out in my mind is her smile. I always remember her smiling. Thinking of you and all your family, she was an incredibly beautiful inside and out.

  3. Wow. I just popped over here from FTLOB and found this - an amazing, incredibly heartfelt post which puts a lot of things that were just going around in my head into perspective. So thanks. And I'll be following from now on! xx