I had a cousin who was two years older than me. We grew up together and were like sisters. We had different personalities and different interests, but we loved each other and were very close.
When I was nineteen, I was going through a deep depression. One evening, I went to her house. She was sitting in front of a mirror, completely absorbed in herself and barely paying attention to me. Feeling annoyed, I made a teasing comment, something like, “Okay, we get it. You're pretty. That's enough.”
It really hurt her feelings. She immediately started arguing with me and saying things that made me feel small and ashamed. I couldn't respond. I couldn't defend myself. I just covered my face with my hands, trying to hide from the look of contempt in her eyes.
I barely made it through that night.
But the real tragedy was that I never saw her again.
A few days later, she and her family went on a trip. She and her father were killed in a car accident.
I never got the chance to tell her how I felt. I never got the chance to explain myself or stand up for myself. Our last fight was never followed by an apology, a conversation, or a reconciliation.
After that, I went through a long and painful period of complicated grief. Part of me was angry with her for leaving that way, before we had the chance to make things right. Another part of me was angry with myself for staying silent when I should have spoken. And what hurt the most was knowing that there would never be another opportunity. There was no way to go back, no second chance to say the things that had been left unsaid.
Image made by chagpt
