Woozle/Jenny/Dear Ghost-Jenny/2018/04/22

Dear Ghost-Jenny,

You were mentioned today, over at Cindy's parents' house. We were talking about how siblings do and don't get along, comparing and contrasting you & Sandy with Benjamin & Zander. The subject of therapy also came up, and I put in my two cents' worth about your terror of institutionalization and the fact that yeah, you and Sandy did fight. I hope I got it right. Nobody seemed particularly... affected?... by what I said, though.

On the one hand, it always hurts to talk about you, to think about you – because you're gone, and it's almost impossible not to think about the fact that you're so very gone, and how much that hurts.

On the other hand, I love doing it, because it brings you back to life just a little, just for a little while. Talking about you is cherishing you. Any time I can breathe a little substance into your existence, remind people that you were a real person and someone whom I still deeply love and care about, and not always a ghost, it keeps you from being completely gone, if that makes any sense. Touch you across the decades. Caress your shadow. I've often thought it's a good thing you weren't buried, because I would just... spend so much time there.

"Time is the space between me and you." I only just figured out what those words meant a few weeks ago, and kind of exploded briefly in tears (briefly because I was driving).

I regret that I never got to stroke your hair.

I realized the other day that I can't be afraid of death anymore because I was ready to die that day after they found you. I'd made the decision. Living was (and is) a compromise position. I already lost everything; what more is there of any substance that could be taken away? (Yeah, that's probably self-indulgent... or maybe I'm just internally exaggerating your importance to me... but confound it, I don't know what else to build myself around. You were my foundation.)

Ashes. Everything is ashes.

I love you always.

W.