| Part 5 Maybe one day, she will wake up from that dream. The dream of her life. She has been dead for a year now. As her sister, I can say that it was expected. She could hide things so well, but we as people all have that ability. I shared a room with her, and often read her journal. It is sort of interesting to see what she writes now, in her afterlife. She never finished the diary, so she continues in it. I don�t think she ever realized that she died. Her life was just as bad as death to her. Living scared her, so she never actually tried to. Last night, the last page in the journal filled up. And last night was when I felt her presence leave our room. I have said my farewells, and it�s scary to think that she is no longer with me, even in the broadest sense of the word. From the last page in my sister�s most precious friend: I just looked outside into the backyard. The date is October 26, 2001. I have 3 years of select memories in here. When I read them, I remember that day, and what happened, but of the times before, I know nothing of. The back lawn is covered in leaves. The wind has been blowing for about a week now, really fast, really hard. More than once I have wanted to give into it. Give into the feeling of blackness. But its been making me wonder what is so important. I feel as though it wants me to remember something just because it feels so familiar. The wind normally comes and goes, it tries, but then gives up on me, bot not this time. It is here now, imprinted in my mind for good. What is it reminding me of? I don�t know, and that�s the part of all this that scares me. The wind came when I got off the bus last Friday. It is waiting for me to figure out why, and I�m trying, but it�s not coming to me. The wind will be gone by tomorrow morning; something inside is telling me that, along with this memory I am fighting so hard to keep�this memory I have no recollection of. I wonder how many people feel the same. Mindi Kay �the day we buried her, the wind was so constant that it blew down a tree next to her grave. |