You have been coming up a lot lately.
I don’t know if it is because the holiday’s are approaching.
Maybe its a little seasonal depression mixed in as the nights get longer and colder.
My mind has reverted back to… “what if she were here…”
What if we could scream sing Chiquita by ABBA over karaoke one more time?
What if we could dance in the car to the random songs that came on the radio?
What if you were in my wedding party?
What if you could be a part of my big day?
What if I could hug you…. just one more time.
Feel the warmth.
hear your voice.
As I’m walking to a bar, to meet with our “baby brother” who is now 21 years old.
But when you died he was only 14.
Actually you died two days before he turned 14.
how you will never get to talk with him as an adult.
have a drink with him.
You will never get to share in his excitement of getting the scholarship for Marine Aviation, which was a one in a million chance.
To talk to him about girls.
Or our little sister.
Who was only 17 years old when you died.
you will never get to see her go to Denver University, graduate, and make a new life away from her family.
you will never get to see the wild, spastic nature that is her.
Never get to see her study abroad – draw people in with her warmth and kindness.
With her beauty.
With her brains.
you will never get to join us as we plan the bachelorette party.
As we talk about our goals and our problems.
As we talk about partners.
Or with me.
You died when I was 20 years old.
When WE were 20 years old.
Never got to have a drink with you at the bar.
Never get to live together.
You who died at the young age of 20.
I will never know how you like your coffee.
What drink you order at a bar.
What career you ended up pursing.
What degree you graduated with.
What partner you chose or continued to see.
What color you may have finally picked as your favorite.
How you changed, grew, adapted.
There will never be the four Jenig siblings together in a room.
There will never be the Jenig twins together.
There will never be the six of us.
There was a hole, that no longer feels like a hole.
There is a reality that exists somewhere else with all of us still in it.
But it is not here.
A reality where we are still singing along to Moulin Rouge.
A reality where I get to call you every week.
A reality where all four siblings get together to laugh and be happy.
To remember our childhood together.
to remind each other of the things we remember but no one else does.
We’ll never know what you remember but we do not.
We’ll never get your memories that were only ingrained in your head.
it is forgotten.
it is lost.
you are gone.
and we will never know.