Missing Heather

I miss my little sister.  She’s in my dreams a lot.  So are my Mom, and brother, Steve.  A shrink would probably tell me that ‘I have unresolved feelings regarding family members who have passed’.  Then I would ask for my money back, because duh.  But then, I wouldn’t tell a shrink something so personal.  I reserve my innermost thoughts and feelings for total strangers on the internet.  That’s a joke, in case it wasn’t obvious.  I’m usually the only one who gets my jokes.

I remember this day.  I had a red tricycle.  This was our front courtyard and we would ride in circles around the tree in the center.  She was so adorable.  Her nickname was, “Smiley”.  Sigh.

This is me and Heather playing with the neighbor kids.  Heather’s little belly sticking out.  So cute.  Clearly, I was never into fashion.

This is the most recent photo before she died.  Someone on Twitter mistook a sarcastic comment I made earlier while playing a hashtag game, and stated I was to blame for the gun problem in America.  It hit me hard.  I lashed out and told him to fuck off.  I have since apologized.  I’ve since been crying, and I can’t stop.  I miss Heather so much.  I hate guns.  I hate that their main purpose is to kill.  Their second most used purpose is for practicing in order to kill more efficiently.  I know too well what it feels like to have someone you love suddenly ripped from your world.  I wish it had been me.