My sister.

Recently I’ve come to the conclusion that life isn’t as beautiful as it was when I was 5 years old. I feel like I’m on some kind of drug that controls everything. That I’m not really in control of what happens. Maybe there’s where God comes in? My emotions are not my own anymore. I smile because I feel it’s right time or because I need to. I cry without knowing it’s coming. I’m just going through the motions.

We reach an age that we begin to experience deaths in the family, real hardships, extreme sadness and at times extreme happiness. At a certain point a sense of realism and maturity hits us. For some this happens at the age of ten, for some—19 and some never reach thi

s. Some people I truly believe life in a world of unawareness and immaturity and I don’t believe it’s necessarily a bad thing. At times I truly wish that I didn’t see life the way I do.

Last weekend I had an extreme meltdown—to the point where I was sobbing uncontrollably and began having some sort of breathing problem because of it. After a few shots of vodka and a couple tootsie roll shots I began to think about how sad I was. I guess I’ve hit that time in my life

where everything is coming together and I’m making more sense of life. Earlier that week I began to work on a project for one of my design classes and I decided to present a collage regarding my sister

(7 years old) who passed away when I was about 3 years old. This is what I started to write for my gallery statement:

My older sister, Madeleine was diagnosed with Pyruvate Dehydroginase Complex Deficiency at a very young age. She was one of eight diagnosed that year in the U.S. and estimated one of 30 diagnosed in the world. All children die when they are about 6 years old. It is caused by an autosomal recessive gene—meaning my parents have that gene. I have a 25% chance of carrying that gene and a 25% chance that I won’t. My sister, Madeleine could not walk, talk, crawl, sit, stand, or see; however, her hearing and sense of smell was outstanding. She despised the smell of the grocery store and hospital—in fact the second she entered one, she’d scream at the top of her lungs! Although my sister did not have the best quality of life according to society’s standards, I know she was well love

d and cared for; furthermore, she’s missed. She taught our family determination, patience, the meaning of unconditional love, and the value of all people. These values have been passed on to me and I do believe that I see the world differently as well. I was very young when she passed away and very limited memory of her—however I hear stories from my parents and extended family, see pictures, and hold on to these dearly. My fuzzy memories of her are now fused with stories and explanations by my parents; furthermore, picture albums and a few saved toys and personal items.

I started thinking about how my family dealt with this and why my family is the way they are.

I understand why my family has such a respect for all people and general love for those close to us. It makes more sense why my family is so mentally strong and holds everything together so well. A reason why I felt over protected sometimes—more so than my friends.

I felt like I was reliving what happened so many years ago with Maddie. That probably sounds outrageous… but it became a life changing experience for me. Maybe some inspiration to be a better person, be more thankful for my life, and be more understanding and loving toward my family.