I got that summertime,summertime sadness

When my sister died in 2005 we moved all of her things into a spare room in our house.I remember seeing a trunk of hers. As a 13 year old that trunk intrigued  me. I remember when I first saw it, I opened it and found nothing but notebooks and envelopes which immediately lost my interest. Over time the trunk got lost. I've since wondered where it ended up, but could never find it.


For anyone who hasn't seen Taylors room. Its monstrous. Huge. No surprise that thing got lost in there. If you keep up with Taylors Facebook, you are well aware he cleaned out a closet to create a recording booth.

Tonight he asked if I would help him clean out the remains of the closet that are now strewn about his bedroom floor. I peaked in his room and saw the trunk.


I opened it and saw so many things. I saw the clock my mother got her for Christmas forever ago. The present she wanted most on her wish list. I remember my mom wrapped batteries for it. Kristy opened the batteries first and quickly came to the realization they were for the clock. I remember my mom acting brainless and making up some story for what the batteries were for.

Little did I know I would not realize my moms brainless imitation potential until I grew up.


I always wanted that clock.

I saw a tiny porcelain doll in a delicate floral print fabric lined box. The one I always begged Kristy to give to me with no success.


All of these things Id wanted her to let me have were now sitting in front of me.


I then moved on to the piles of papers. I was looking for pictures, or even letters from myself to her.

I found the opposite, though.

Lots of letters addressed to me. Ones I had never seen before.


My sister spent a few years apart from the family, and she had written the letters during that time.


They talked a lot about how much she missed me, or how she wished she could see me grow up, or just general encouragement towards me.

Things she meant in relevance to that time, but are increasingly more relevant now.

More than missing her, I usually just wonder what she would think of who I've become. There are times I wish I could ask her advice, or times I know she would understand and defend me when no one else would.


She also had multiple journals, which I read.

I never realized how incredibly similar we are.
I was literally reading journal entries of hers while she was my age now.


She spoke exactly like me, her thought process was exactly like mine.

I learned a lot of new things about her. Not like secrets, just traits I never recognized at my young age.

She mentioned me in them a lot. During which I would have been about 8 or 9.
I always knew I was special to her, but I didn't really know just how much until I read those journal entries.




One of the oddest things about someone dying is that over time you start to forget things about them. Its both the worst and best aftermath.



This trunk was a brick wall of a reminder.


We always had a way of communicating. And I guess we still do.