#it gets a little annoying :| especially if its the SAME FRIGGING PERSON WHO IVE TAUGHT TO TWO STEP AND WALTZ MULTIPLE TIMES

[the-woild-is-y-erster]

I'm sorry you're sick man :/

I'm very excited today because my gf said she would like me to get a trans bf becuase she's recently discovered she's poly and knows I want one, so now I'm just trying to find one!

I would love to read any haikus you write!

What are your sheel playlist thoughts?

yeah me too :( and my brother bought oreos and i cant even have any because i have to eat them with milk and milk would just make me feel worse :(((

gl on your hunt bro!! im sure you'll find a good guy xx

ok so i wrote five more than i was sposed to xx whoops

my favourite chicken is gone

she would run right up

to say hello

maybe next spring 

we'll meet again

purple is the best colour, i think

so rare in nature

yet we assign it to kings

there are fawns in my grandparents neighborhood again

they are small, gangly

they hide behind their mother

dainty feet barely ghosting the grass as they run

my guitar has scratches from the time i dropped it

wood hitting pavement, a discord of noise

i find it has a certain mournful sound now

character development

we dance in your kitchen to old love songs

big band music always makes me happy

you're the first person i haven't had to teach to dance

[mysisterclaire]

Claire’s everlasting bucket of kindness.

Apologies in advance for not sticking to either past or present tense, my brain is fried. I’m not entirely sure I can read it & edit it again... 

I try hard not to dwell on what I am missing out on, not having Claire around. What her interactions would be as Judy has gotten older & the relationship she would have had with Ada (For the record, she would have snorted gleefully at Ada’s cheekiness, egging it on & making my eyes roll - they would have got up to terrible fun together.) It’s a pointless heart wrenching exercise.

And whilst I find it easy to write about Claire’s bravado & gusto. Her sunshine energy, some silly funny story, what I struggle to write about is her innate kindness & softness. Because this is where I feel her loss the most. This is what kills me about her not being here. And to give time contemplating that, I tend to have to hold my breath to stop myself from hyperventilating. 

I need to write this particular blogpost. It is important I post it. I need everyone & Claire to know how much I needed her too, and how I wish I had said it when she was here. 

The place I want to go to is hers. I want to sit in her light green living room, take my shoes off, sit on my feet on her couch & be surrounded by the scent of green fig (’Smell it Sarah, SMELL IT, It’s green fig, its frigging green friggidy fig it smells amazing. I fucking love it. Look I’ve got the candle, the pot pourri, the sticks. Do you love it?’ Shaking each item with excitement & then forcefully sticking that shit so far into my face I can taste it.). I want her to ask me what brand of wanky tea do I want today. (She had a load of tea samples especially for wanky old me in her cupboard). I want her to make me Heinz Mushroom soup and fat sliced white bread or the egg mayo she had prepared in advance because she knew I was coming. She understatedly made a fuss of me. She always made my sandwiches. From when we were in secondary school, even when we both worked out in the big wide world. And I would always eat them at first break or by 10am because I couldn’t wait. She had put the love into them and a multitude of gooood ingredients. They were proper amazing full sandwiches not just a wafer thin slice of ham stuffed between two slices of dry bread because I couldn’t be bothered. I want to sit all cosy in her living room or loiter in the doorway of her kitchen & chitter chatter or tell her my current issues & for her to look at me with her huge empathic brown eyes, as she felt what I was going through & knowing that if she couldn’t make it better she could make me laugh just by saying something ridiculous or belching (she could sing ’Its all about the money, its all about the dum dum diddy dum dum’ in one burp). Hers would be the one place I could go to to make everything better. It is kind of where I need to go. But she isn’t there anymore.

I miss having her place to go, where I could fully be relaxed & myself, not care about offending, but perhaps even purposefully doing so. Just going somewhere to irritate someone. You can get away with that when it is your sister. And I miss being able to give that to Claire too. I miss her frequent pop ins, with the 10 minutes it took her to park her car & her silly faces at the window met with my silly faces walking to answer the door to her. The ability to talk about absolute boring weird shit or just sit in comfortable silence watching a film, legs entwined on the sofa, slapping her hand out of the sweets. I miss retelling a story & adding ‘and then I called BULLSHIT on everything they said & left’ and her face lighting up, asking ‘NO! Really?!?’ & me responding ‘No, but I wanted to.’ and we’d laugh and laugh and laugh. And then, in practisced synchronicity, we’d add a funny line from Todd in Neighbours from when we were 11/12 that made us laugh hysterically -  ‘Cos thats the kind of guy I am’ & dramatically turn on our heels. She just had to look at me & we’d laugh.

I miss the unedited unfiltered texts & messages. I miss the ‘tling tling tling’ of her sending me direct messages on facebook - her not writing paragraphs, she’d irritatingly press send after every fricking line - oh god it was annoying - especially at 6am when she was out walking Banjo & I was snuggled & rejoicing that Judy was sleeping in. But I miss it. I have wanted to tell her about Judy’s disappearing, reappearing outtie belly button - I’m not entirely sure why were so obsessed with belly buttons... but they always made us giggle, especially as Claire’s was so cavernous. I wanted to text her after giving birth to Ada ‘Ive done my first poo & haven’t frank & beans’ed my stitches - hooray!’. I mean - you can’t put that on Facebook (and there you were thinking I didn’t have a filter - I really really do!!) & you definitely shouldn’t tell your husband - but I did, because I didn’t have Claire - sorry Jamie! Songs, film quotes & impressions, shared memories just aren’t the same with out her. Its just another blow, huge emptyness washes over me. It’s shit. 

I am a little socially awkward & don’t really know what to say at parties etc - I always relied on Claire to balance that out. Always. I felt confident knowing she was there & I could call her over as soon as I started internally panicking with the conversation She was always so bubbly with something funny to say. I didn’t realise how much I relied on that. At her funeral talking to her friends & getting a bit tongue tied I was scanning the room for Claire. The amount of times I almost said ‘Claire will be here soon’ & had to stop myself whilst smuggling a gut kick was laughable. Perhaps with every single person I spoke to. I didn’t wise up to the permanence of it. Even when the subject was her loss. 

I miss the confidence of having someone who always has your back. Who will not give a shit & contraversially or not - go up to the person who had been subtley been making my life hell & have it out with them because I couldn’t do it. Even if its at my wedding party, under the radar, with a smile on her face - attack like for bloody like. POW! She was amazing. You can pretty much guarantee if anyone has a bad word to say about Claire, its because she’s had it out with them & they know they deserved it & they didn’t like it. Its a good feeling having someone who will stick up for you when you are down. Who will not let you take shit. Its actually great feeling & Claire was brilliant. She was Scrappy Doo.

It’s also the small things, like me being so concerned with sunscreen & sun hats for Judy, I forgot my own & that’s particularly stupid, being ginger & all. Claire turns up with a Factor 50 for me that won’t make me feel like I’m wearing a jumper as she has heard me complain about this all my life. She sees I’m constantly in a quandry about the baby’s dummy falling on the floor & whether I need to steralise it, so she gets a clip for it & now it won’t fall- I never even knew those existed. Every time she visits she brings me my favourite sweets & every couple of months she comes with a pink pen & the newest photos of Judy printed to put in her Baby Book. I get frustrated by the constant questions like who was the best sportsperson of 2012 but simultaneously there is so much love & thought & effort being put in. I feel ungrateful, I was ungrateful & took everything for granted. She had paid attention to every little passing comment & one especially where I had said the smell a particular handwash/handcream reminds me of my nan & I can’t stop sniffing my hands, it makes me feel nice. Months later that is what I unwrap as a birthday present. I gushed with tears at the time & again, now, recalling it. Practically, emotionally, spiritually, she was there for me. It was impossible to be incompetent with Claire catching the balls I regularly dropped.

Coming up to Judy’s birthday I’m reminded of my time in hospital being induced. Claire had turned up with bags of stuff for Jamie & I. Her brilliant sandwiches in her own home made soda bread. My favourite sweets, lucozade for energy, chocolate of every description, an ipod with a playlist she had put together especially for me giving birth. ‘Listen to this one Sarah, it has a lot of energy for pushing’ handing me an ear phone, everything had turned to zigzags & I strain ‘fuck off’ mid contraction. I quickly apologise after. She had put in some pretty crap womens weeklies which were there to remind me that no matter how shit I feel during childbirth at least I’m not in a sexual relationship with the family dog. (I mean what the hell with these magazines? hahahaha). Making Jamie & I a weeks worth of food to put into the oven once we are home with the baby. Fantastic stews, pasta bakes, breads. She was right there all the time with support & fun.

Our wedding party night. She got Jamie & I a nights stay in a posh hotel. My mum & aunt looked after Judy. Claire had made us a picnic for the hotel. Again, home made sandwiches with homemade bread, crisps, champagne, wine, chocolate, coke for our hangovers. She was always treating us, always looking after us. Always there to make everything 100% better. 

As part of my hen do celebrations, where it is becoming maybe customary to provide a photo & memories of time spent (or misspent in youth!) with the hen or indeedy some marriage advice, Claire had decided instead, to ask people for poo stories for me!!! Ask some of you for poo stories, some of you she didn’t know too well & asked anyway with no filter or hesitation. Imagine getting an email out of the blue from your mates sister asking for an embarrassing personal poo story!!! She asked family too, including my 85 year old nan in Ireland! ‘Nan, Sarah LOVES poo stories, c’mon you MUST have one’ All the stories collated & put with photos of my friends & family & presented to me at the most amazing Hen do ever! I could barely read it for tears, tears of laughter but also tears of recognising how much work had gone into this & how much Claire knew how much I’d love this! It was amazing! I had won the lottery with this gift.

I’ve described my tantrums in a previous post where dealing with the frustrations of Claire’s illness was the cause of some of them. There was one caused by work exhaustion. It was 2010 I was senior designer to a new music festival. The pressure was crazy, other members of the team had broken down already, left entirely, the hours were crazy, the sheer amount of work for months in advance of the event was horrendous (16 hour days 7 days a week in those last weeks) but it was also perhaps one of my greatest achievements. I am surprised I held it together - well I did until we were physically in the throes of the festival having fun. I couldn’t find Jamie & that was it, the straw that broke the camels back - the panic that induced was enough to send me over the edge. There I was in my red rain coat and wellies, wobbling forwards & backwards whilst simultaneously gathering pitch to a scream. I threw myself on the floor just outside of the crowd of the main stage (!!) & was pounding & kicking the ground. My brother picked me up, I was a sobbing mess. Claire, who ran to look for Jamie came running over & said she had found him, she was giggling & beckoning to me with her finger. I follow her with those loud hiccupy gasps & she leads me to this, humungous black guy - nothing like Jamie! He opens his arms & smiles this huge smile & tells me ‘I am your Jamie, come, give me a hug’. My sobs turn to uncontrolled laughter - It was a great hug - I can’t imagine the amount of snot I put on this guy! Finally, a very happy smily oblivious Jamie came bounding over & everything was grand. And this, just another funny mad story about how great Claire was. Below is the photo of the gang trying to cheer me up & me all soppy.

The hole she has left is indescribably immense. We were spoiled by having such a giving selfless person in our lives & I was lucky to have been so close for her 31 years. I have to tell myself that her love was so huge & generous that the effect will touch me forever more. And our relationship is something that I can only encourage my own two girls to have with each other.