Who am I?
By: Kelsey Poffenroth
Tags: Sisters, First Post, Heartbreak, Deep Thoughts, Death

Who am I?

I know, I know Cliche… but, seriously I am a born and raised Calgarian, Go flames!who recently married her best friend. Through experience I have realized how lucky I am to wake up every day, and to live every day to its fullest potential. Not every day is good or great but it is still a day we are lucky to live.

My positive outlook on life along with my bubbly personality gives off the appearance that I have rainbows shooting out my ass and I’m essentially happy always. Thats the perception but the reality for me is I have experienced some things that could break me; Death, heart break, conflict. The thing that keeps me going, infinite and definite love. I am still sad, or angry but I live each day the way I want to be remembered by. I love each day, appreciate each interaction as if I were to leave this earth tomorrow, the impact I leave on people or legacy I leave is someone I am proud to be. Just the way I remember my sister,

When I was ten years old, I lost my sister to a drunk driver. For some people, this was the end, other it was the middle and beginning of something significant in their lives. It was my middle. My beginning involved my sister as a Hugh support in my world, but my middle and end started off without my sister and brought some amazing people into my life for a season, reason and a lifetime. I am who I am today due to my sisters passing but also her Influence growing up; which I am so grateful for.

We were coming home from a family vacation, pretty routine in our family. We would leave Friday after work stay the weekend or the week and head home on the Sunday. This trip we decided to stay a few days extra and extra enjoy the sun and boat.

Often, my parents would let me bring a friend since my sister stopped coming because at her age she was too cool to go on family vacations. My sister, Whitney had just graduated from high school, was eighteen and was at home enjoying a summer of freedom, especially a weekend without the parents.

When we finally got home after battling hours of traffic on the highway, we came home to an empty house, with the red voicemail button flashing repeatedly. Cell phones were new and expensive, we just had a house phone. Once the button was pushed a low monoton voice took over the house, it was from my grandpa. This was a call no grandparent wanted to make. He told us that my sister was in an accident the day before and to call them. My parents dropped me off at my friends house who we were on holidays with and went away. Not going to lie at ten I wasn’t privy to losses like this besides family members getting old and dying. An eighteen year old couldn’t get hurt let alone die from a car accident. My friend and I played sailor moon had coke and pizza. From here is goes a bit blurry but feels like the longest week of my life. I remember my parents brining me to the intensive care unit at the hospital, I saw my sweet sister for the first time since her accident. It wasn’t my sister, this person in front of me was swollen, bruised, lifeless and not my sister. My parents told me she was in acoma and was very hurt. I remember them saying she might not wake up and if she did, she wouldn’t have much of a life… compared her to a vegetable. The next time I saw her I could of sworn her eyes were partially open with tears, I had such a glimmer of hope. But they them told me they have to keep her eyes moistened and it was lubrication. One thing I didn’t mention mostly because it doesnt matter but my father was previously married and my sister was actually my half sister. I say it doesn’t matter because family is family, she was my sister. Since she was my half sister, there was some differences in the way we were brought up but one thing we had in common was we were both not baptized. My parents were married when I was a few months old and my sister was there in a beautiful satin white and blue dress, she was 9 years old. I walked into the intensive care Unit with that that silk dress on my skin, frilled socks and my head held low. The preist came in and blessed both my sister and All I remember was him blessing us with the holy water as I stood by my sisters lifless body still breathing but with the help of Machines. The next few days were a blur, I kept myself relatively busy by writing poems and songs; I was pretty creative with my words and feelings… had the gift of rhyme it seemed. I spent some nights with my friend Chelsea, other with a family friend Cindy who is like an aunt to me. Then, one of the days following the baptism I was listening to my Walkman CD player with Backstreet Boys outside of our little city bungalow. My mom sat me on the back of our truck on the tail gate and told me something I would remember the rest of my life. She told me my sister being on life support, had the chance of her waking up with no value of life; a vegetable. At ten you think I can take care of her, I’ll feed her, help her do everything I can do so I don’t loose my big sister. I didn’t realize the impact of being selfish and wanting to keep her around forever, including my sister. This was the end of her story but the beginning of mine.. my dad and his ex wife decided on that day to “pull the plug.” Blunt, morbit, hearless whatever it is it saved my sister from living a life she was better than. She was put on this earth to make a difference not as a vegetable. That day I went into my sisters bedroom, the dark cold basement. Bed messy, clothes all over the floor, chapstick open on her dresser; just the way she left it. I laid on her clothes and took a deep breath in hopes to imprint her smell in my brain one last time, maybe it would stay forever. Scared that I will forget, her smell, her laugh, her; my sister Whitney. I never have.

I laid in her clothes crying, biting my face and body deeper and deeper as if I was buried in them. I just Layed there, forever it seemed tasting the salty aftermath of my endless tears. Looking back I understand completely why things turned out that way. I understand my sister having no quality of life. At ten years old I had some understanding but I was filled with a feeling of emptiness, anger and asked what if, what if.

I continued to write my feelings down in poems and songs, I even read at my sisters funeral. I can’t exactly remember the reading but I do remember it was probably the most real and honest part of me I have ever shared. I sat beside my sisters mom;laurel who is one of the nicest ladies I have ever known. I talk more about her and i’s relationship later. Laurel gave me a blue ice teddy that goes into the freezer for when we hurt ourselves or to keep our lunch cold, whatever seems fit. It was my sisters as she grew up and she gave it to me. I never knew something so simple could mean so much, it was priceless. Not many things stand out as if was 18 years ago except seeing my sister after she was made up by the mortician, she still looked beautiful as always. The other was seeing the person who was driving the car that out us all her, Clayton. He was in a wheelchair. I’m not proud but I remember wondering if this was his punishment from the accident; he lost the use of his legs. It was just temporary he would end up walking, driving, loving and living again unlike my sister. Funeral came and went, I dragged my poor sisters friends into our basement to watch my talent show audition; Backstreet Boys choreography taught by my sister. Explains why I am not a professional dancer as a full time career, or even part time. Fast forward to now, like I said I am happy and live each day as if it were your last, because as cliche is can be. I have regretts, I wish I said I love you to my sister before we left for that weekend. I wish we came home early and maybe she would be alive. I realized I can’t keep wishing and hoping but I am responsible for my future. Now, I don’t hate Clayton I do relalize everyone makes mistakes and some are worse then others, even changing peoples lives for the worse;but, it takes a special person to find the positive. I have learned to say I love you more often and mean it, never drink and drive, everyone makes mistakes and it takes someone special to realize that. I love my sister and will always love her, I’m thankful she is always watching me and that I can grow every day while she is with me.