My little sister, Brooke, who juniored me by 18 months, was in a tragic car accident with two other teens early in the morning of March 24, 2008. They were all three killed on impact.
This has been the single most defining event in my life. The lessons that this has taught me could not be understood in any other possible way, as harsh and awful as that seems. I am still learning these lessons everyday. But this is part of my soul’s polishing process- and it hurts.
The most precious human being that I ever had the pleasure to know was Melanie Brooke Dover. Silliness and beauty followed her like light follows the sun.
When the world was able to wipe her from it’s existence sending her onto her next adventure without my permission, my brain melted.
My heart froze.
I denied my soul.
Everything turned black.
For about two years, my anger churned and burned. I cursed God. I became reclusive. I grew apart from my family. My bad relationship got worse. I just didn’t understand.
This was never part of the plan.
I wanted answers. I wanted to understand. I wanted to trade places.
She was the good one. Not me. She had plans. I never have.
I saw multiple psychologists and psychiatrists. I was diagnosed with more ailments and disorders than I can remember. I was switched from anti-depressant to anti-depressant from benzo to benzo. “Here is a pill to level you out daily. Here is a pill to help you sleep every night. And here is an extra pill for when you have panic attacks.”
None of that jazz really worked out for me.
There was one counselor who understood me and that helped me to learn to start loving myself again. She told me that time was all that would make it easier.
She was right.
By now the all that time has let some scar tissue form and the wounds are eight years old.
I still cry and it still hurts often. But somehow, I believe I am a better person because of it.
I consider the value of life more. I want to better the world and be a part of it in a way that I did not before. I no longer feel guilty to be happy. I have a desire to live and travel more than ever before. I don’t fear physical pain like I did before. I am gutsier and more honest. I feel like I have to make a difference in the world, because I know that she would have.
Don’t get me wrong, in her short 17 years, she touched more lives than I even know of. But if I can give back just a smidgen of the love and hope that she gave me, I will have lived well.