A Letter to you, a Year Later
September 12, 2014
Misty, my dear sister, my best friend,
I don’t even know where to begin, but by saying, I miss you… terribly. And life without you hurts more than I ever thought possible. There hasn’t been a day this past year that I haven’t thought about you, heard your voice or your funny little laugh inside my head. Actually, it’s more like there hasn’t been more than 12 hours that have gone by that I haven’t thought about you--and that is only because I have to sleep at some point.
I swear, I try to focus on the memories—the good times we had together. But there are times I can’t help but think of that night, one year ago today. The thoughts of how you must have felt make my insides cringe, my stomach twist into hard knots and my heart break all over again. I think about what I could have done, what I should have done… what I didn’t do. Sometimes I wish I didn't know the details that I know, then other times, I want to know more. I want to know why.
My only comfort, when these horrific thoughts invade my head, is trusting that Jesus was with you that dreadful night. That He surrounded you with His army of angels and that you didn’t have to face the fear alone. That you saw His face, instead of the other. Felt His peace, instead of the other.
I know that you are in a better place. I know that you have an understanding that goes well beyond anything my mind could comprehend. I know, the joy you now know is all-consuming and everything we all desire. I also know that if you had the choice to come back to us... you wouldn’t. You know a peace that I long for. I know that you are happy, your struggles are gone and your heart is full of the love you’ve always desired. But on those days, where my heart is selfish, and I feel hurt and angry because missing you tears me to pieces, I just want you to be here. With us. With me.
Oh, how I long for the simpler days. When our problems were boys and fighting over who was getting to the bathroom first. The days where our closets were fair game. The days when we would pull up into the parking lot of school and decide, ‘nah, not really feeling it today’, and take off to Little Rock to spend the day window shopping (because, Lord knows, we were both broke!) I miss the days of going to the mall and hanging out with you at your job. And the nights of riding with the top down and the music turned up loud, heading nowhere in particular, just wherever the road led us. I miss the days of us not really trying to dress alike, but then end up wearing almost the same thing. I miss the times people would get us mixed up and think I was you and you were me. I miss the long talks, silent whisper of secrets. And then even as we grew older, the hours and hours on the phone, playing catch up with what was going on in our lives. I miss the advice giving, the times of just being there when we needed each other. The times where life didn’t feel right without at least hearing the other's voice.
I miss the promises to never allow anything to come between us. I miss our connection that stretched across hundreds of miles. I miss the surprise visits in the middle of the night and lying beside you, talking about nothing. I miss the way my stomach ached after a long hard laugh with you.
I miss the days of us. I miss us…
What would I say to you, if you were standing here in front of me, a year after your death?
There’s so much, and I'm afraid, there wouldn’t be enough time.
But first and foremost, I would tell you that I am not the same without you. That I love you more than even I understand. That I loved you even in the days we were arguing. That without you, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.
I would tell you that as long as I breathe you will never be forgotten. I promise I will 
never stop talking about you, especially to Lauren and Reed, and I promise to help their love for you to only grow stronger.
I would tell you that none of the bad things we ever said to each other meant anything. That they are all forgotten. I would beg for your forgiveness and know that you give it. Because that's who you truly are, a forgiving person, especially to those you love. I would tell you, the only thing that matters is how much we loved each other.
I would tell you that I know that night, 24 years ago, when you jumped in the car with us, was no coincidence. You were meant to be in my life, and I, in yours.
I would tell you that forever and always, you are my sister.
I try to imagine the things you would say to me, but I cannot seem to make the words stick with me very long. I think about you here on earth, and about you there in Heaven. Would the things you tell me be different now? I believe so, because your understanding is so real now.
In my minds eye, you would sit down beside me and allow me to cry, scream and shout. And then you would gently wrap your arms around my shoulders, and with tears in your eyes too, say, "I miss you too. But focus on the good times, let go of guilt and mistakes, and be thankful for the time we had together." You would tell me life is fleeting, enjoy it while you can; do great things, travel the world, get outside more.
You would tell me that I must stay strong, that I must take care of your brother, and your niece and nephew. You would say, that I have to move on and that I really will be ok. You would tell me to not be afraid of letting go of the pain, because letting go of the pain does not mean that I have to let go of you.
You would tell me that you will never really leave me, that your memory will never be far away. They will resurface when I see a butterfly flutter across the yard; in the sandy beaches where scattered pieces of driftwood have come to rest; in an old wooden dock on a lakeshore, or hiking a rocky trail in the woods.
The memories will resurface in the shining rays of the sun, as they carve through the clouds; in the sunsets that splash the evening sky with breathtaking colors; and they will come as I sit in a porch swing, staring at the millions of stars that map out the night sky. They will show up in the echo of laughter from a blonde and a brunette walking side by side. You would tell me that your memory will come often and as much as I need it. You would tell me to hold onto them, treasure them, and never forget who we were together.
You would tell me that you’re good now, better than good--you are complete, and that you are with Jesus and your mom, just waiting for us to join you.
You would tell me to take what I have been given, this grieving broken heart and use it for the Kingdom. That I can be a voice in helping to restore relationships, in comforting other grieving people, but most importantly, bringing people closer to Jesus Christ. You would say that I must believe that God's not done with me yet.
You would tell me to stand back up, knock off the mud, and get to work. The Kingdom is waiting.
And I would tell you that I don’t know how to move on, don’t know how to stand back up. The mud is too thick and heavy to be knocked off. That my life isn’t supposed to be lived without you.
You would say that our connection, even though it feels frayed and tattered right now, is not broken. I will always be a part of you. Just like you will be a part of me.
You would say, that you know I loved you then, and that I still love you now. And you would remind me that you love me, too.
And then, you would tell me goodbye, but only just for now, because we will see each other again one day. This is not the end of us.
I do love you with all of my heart, my friend, my sister. And I will miss you ‘til the day that I take my last breath.
Your twin sis forever,
Misty
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