This is for those of you, who have been lost for words, who didn’t always know what to say. I know you tried your best, thank you. Losing somebody is very hard, everyday can be like an emotional rollercoaster. One day a person can be mad, sad, depressed, anxious or all of the above.

“How are you?” I was asked this question about 40 times a day. Honestly, there wasn’t a correct way to answer that. Every time I was asked, “How are you”, I would tilt my head, grind my teeth, or put my head down. It would make me cringe.

It got to the point where I just thought, “Alright, this is silly”. Can everybody stop asking me this silly question? I just could not believe how three words that I hear all the time made me so angry.

But then there were these messages, “Hey! How are you?” when I got these messages I would think to myself, why are they happy? Do they not know that I may not be? All of these things were very strange to me. That one question, “How are you?” was the worst question to ask.

It became the REMINDER of reminders. When people asked me this question, it was as though they were reminding me, “Hey Tot, don’t forget your sister is dead.”

There I was, going through this crazy, life changing event and everyday people wanted to know about it. That’s how I took it at that time. It was no longer the normal, “How are you?” There was just so much turmoil behind this question because everybody knew someone was taken from me untimely.

As the months started to pass, I got enough courage to explain how I felt. My response would be, “the same as I felt yesterday, and the day before that, and even before that.” It became quite annoying for me and I knew it was annoying for my parents as well. I remember having a conversation with my dad and he told me that everybody kept asking him that dreadful question. He explained that his responses would be, “what kind of question is that?” Or, “how do you think I’m doing?”

I never realized how many different meanings that question could have.

“How are you?” is used in everyday life, but often used as a “filler” for the sake of just saying SOMETHING. Trust me, I get it. It’s better to say something than not say anything at all right? To me it was imperative to not even ask it, I felt as if it was a simple-minded question.

I always appreciated texts such as, “you don’t even have to answer, I’m just checking in.” Oh, how I applauded those who did that, because I didn’t feel pressured. Shoot, the IOS update was my best friend. All I had to do was hold that message down and press that little heart to make it turn pink. At least the person on the other end of the phone knew I acknowledged them.

I apologize for the read receipts. Those were for the people who knew me very well. If I read the text and didn’t answer, I hoped that they understood that particular day wasn’t such a good day for me. I appreciated the messages like: “Hey I’m here if you want to talk”, “I’m here if you need me”. Even the, “You need anything, I got you.“ Because that gave me the option to respond, if I felt up to it.

BUT, then there were these texts “wassup”, or “what’s up” (if you will). Why are you asking me what’s up? Trust me, you were 9 times out of 10 not getting a response. I would say to myself, “Dang, like why even text me at all, what you think is up? I’m mourning… maybe?”

The culprits of these texts were usually my male friends. I’ve learned that men don’t always know what to say. I get it *Kanye shrug*

For those of you listening, maybe you know someone who is currently going through a loss… I want to give some advice on how to say, “how are you” when someone is grieving. Try avoiding questions that a person may not have the answer to. These questions that get asked everyday are really not easy questions to be answered, period.

And to the ones who are experiencing the grieving process, it’s ok not to answer. Also, honesty can’t always play a part when responding, some people are sensitive or they might not understand the response from you. To be frank, try to answer as politely as possible. By the response that you give, a person should know exactly what type of mood you’re in.

If people don’t understand your response or why you aren’t responding, then that’s ok. Your process is your process, remember that. But the more transparent you are with people, the better you will feel.

Trust me.

You’re not even here anymore, I’m not even unique anymore.

I was so lucky to be a twin. That doesn’t even matter. You’re not here anymore. Pictures of us when we were young, which twin is which? It doesn’t matter you’re not here anymore.

“You have any siblings? How’s your sister?” You’re not here anymore. When you died, people would try to make me feel better by saying, “She’s here, she’s watching over you.” That was the most cliché line if I’ve ever heard one. It’s like the one line people say, when they don’t know what to say.

FYI: When you say that, and you think it’s helping, it’s not. It doesn’t help to ease all of the pain that person is enduring. Well, at least not for me. Anytime people would say that to me, I would just think, “Uhhhhh, I don’t feel her anywhere”.

There were certain times when reality really hit and I just knew you weren’t here. For example, when it came to switching out our clothes when the seasons changed and having to leave yours in storage, reminding me that you’re not here. I remember the first time I went to Docs on a Friday. It wasn’t the same, something was missing. You’re not here. I don’t feel you anywhere. I used to be able to shake you and wake you up when I thought you were late for work. I used to be able to watch movies and lay on you because I knew it annoyed you. I don’t feel you anywhere.

The physical part is what I needed, I didn’t care to hear about your “presence,” I wanted you here. You’re not here anymore. It wasn’t until 8 months after losing you, that I was able to get over the fact that you’re not here anymore.

A memory that was once cloudy came to my mind. The Sunday after Ariana died I danced in church. It was my Pastor’s anniversary. I danced like I’ve never danced before. It was like a part of me died with Ari and I was a new woman here on earth. I mean, my sister died on a Friday and I went to church and still praised on that Sunday. It was so strange for me, I knew I was strong but not that strong. My heart was broken but I just knew that the Lord would bring me through.

After church, I went to Wawa for some reason and used the restroom. While in Wawa, Ceelo green came on. I don’t know if anybody can relate or remember these moments but “F You” was our jam. Ari and I would sing this particular song together, and we SANNG y’all. I would be banging on the bar, and eventually by the end of the song the bar would be underneath my feet. Typing this memory had me staring into space and I couldn’t help but smile, but then soon enough, reality had hit me once again.

Thinking about that memory made me sad, what was once a happy memory turned sad. But it still played, and then, I realized, Ari, you’re everywhere. I heard the A-Team one time when I got sad, you’re everywhere. I started having all these crazy dreams and you came to me. Now, you’re everywhere. I’m able to smell your clothes, look at pictures (well some), videos, and listen to songs that reminded me of you. It was tough at first. I would get nauseous hearing my voice, I still do. I would be startled when I heard myself on Snapchat because I heard you in me. What started to make me happy was eating foods you liked. Talking how you talked, saying things you would say. I know it gave people comfort by them seeing my face, but what about me? I needed some type of relief at times, you’re everywhere.

I started remembering dances and you singing along to Tyga’s song “Rumors”. Things I couldn’t see last September. You’re everywhere. “Ari’s bench,” you’re everywhere. Double rainbows, you’re everywhere. You shared with me in the first dream I had of you that you watch me sometimes, you’re everywhere. I smelled you one time out of nowhere. I could have sworn you were in our room and you sat on my bed. Did you put my comforter on me? You’re everywhere. I lost $300 last September and couldn’t find it anywhere. I drove myself crazy looking for that money, and I even had help trying to find it. I literally checked everywhere. I gave up after a while. Losing money became such a small worry, after everything I had been through.

This August I made a trip to see my best friend from college. I went to my jewelry box so I could pack my sunglasses. While I was looking for them I saw something white at the bottom of that drawer. I thought to myself, what is this? People wrote me so many letters back in September, I was just putting them in random places so I could find them and read them later. I honestly thought It was one of them. I moved everything slowly like I was in a movie and I stumbled upon a life changing item. It was that envelope! Inside was that $300 I lost almost a year ago. I have opened that same drawer for 365 days and it wasn’t until that moment right before I had left for Maryland, that I found that envelope sitting right there. Ari took care of me emotionally, mentally, financially, in life. She’s now doing the same in death.

There were a couple of things that went missing in this past year, and every time I could hear her voice in my head “Tot you’re always losing something”. But Ari was right there every time, bringing things right back. You’re everywhere.

Sunflowers, you’re everywhere.

Speaking of sunflowers, let me explain. For those of you listening and reading I want to touch a little bit on the significance of sunflowers. Ari’s favorite color growing up was pink. Now the color pink represents caring, compassion and love. The color pink stands for unconditional love and understanding, and is associated with giving and receiving care. That describes Ari so accurately. My favorite color growing up was purple. Purple is often associated with royalty, nobility, luxury, power, ambition. Now, my favorite color is yellow. Yellow is the color of sunshine, hope and happiness. It can stand for positivity, clarity, energy, optimism, enlightenment. I think this best describes me now. But I fell in love with yellow the first time I had ever seen a sunflower. You have no idea how a sunflower can brighten up my day. I will literally stare at a sunflower all day long.

I am a beautiful brown woman with a beautiful bright personality. A sunflower is brown on the inside but bright yellow on the outside. Because I loved sunflowers so much, so did Ari. You see, that’s how this twin thing goes. Two, become one. Everything she liked I liked, anything she said I said. I loved sunflowers, well then so did she. Ari even decided to get a tattoo of a sunflower on her body for me. She loved me so much, she used the sunflower as a representation of me. I smile now when I see sunflowers because I know that’s her trying to make me smile. I’m glad that people use these sunflowers in reference to her but, it’s referring to me the most, and that’s ok because I am her.

You’re everywhere.

When my sister left this earth she left a mark on EVERYBODY. She left a mark everywhere she has ever been and on everyone she has ever known. I believe that everything she was, and is, is admired and appreciated. Everybody knew Princess Diana. She was admired for her beauty, her strength, and the remarkable love that she had for others.

That’s why I compare Ari to Princess Diana. Not only in the way she lived her life, but also in the way she left this earth. She left in a way that nobody would ever forget. The trust she had in her driver, the crash itself, the people she left behind and the trauma they went through.

Ariana was selfless, and she would literally give the shirt off her back to anybody, so she was like a princess to all, a Queen even, our Queen of Hearts.

When she passed she was everywhere. On everybody’s Facebook, Instagram and even on their cell phones. It was so difficult seeing pictures of her. There were memories that people were posting and pictures of her that I hadn’t seen in forever. It was hard. Seeing those pictures was hard.

The hardest thing about seeing her face was seeing my face. Every day for 365 days I have looked in the mirror. Every time I looked in the mirror I saw her. I saw her tears, her eyes, her mouth, her nose, I saw everything in her, in me. How many people can say that?

Every time I would vent about what I was going through somebody’s response would always be “I understand”. Do you? You don’t understand. I always had to take a step back and keep my composure, so that I didn’t release all the anger I had built inside of me. But I just knew that the people around me couldn’t relate, I thought that nobody would ever be able to.

People thought they could understand. But… do you know what it’s like to have people ask you all your life, “Which twin are you?” Having someone trying to figure out which one had died… Do you know how hard it is to look in the mirror and now only see half of you?”

They would come up to me and say, “Hey twin”. This was the hardest, because it was a constant reminder of my loss; a loss that no one else could understand. Nobody could possibly see what I saw every time I looked in the mirror. All I could see was her, my twin, my soul, the Queen of my heart.

When you look in the mirror, you see your reflection. Your face, and only yours, looking back at you. My vision is different. You can’t see my face when you look in the mirror. I shared a reflection with only one person who could ever understand. Now, all I have are pictures, videos, and mirrors.

A dear friend shared with me that Ari’s last day on earth was the last day of summer,
Thursday, September 22. Ari loved summer so it was only fitting that her last moments were on a day that would end her definition of bliss. This post is dedicated to my friend who shared this. Lauren Lubrano, thank you. 

September 23, 2016. There were people everywhere. People in my house, in my back yard, on my front lawn, on my neighbor’s front lawn. We had a police escort (Thank-you) at my house. It was just complete chaos. I’ll never forget my dad speaking the words, “I can’t believe I have to bury my baby”. I felt like somebody was squeezing my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. “Where am I? Is this real?” I couldn’t get a grip on reality. 

I don’t know if anybody remembers, but it rained for days. There was literally no sunlight. I remember turning to my best friend as I’m looking out the window and asked her, “Do you think Ari is sad for us? It just keeps raining”.  On the nights that it didn’t rain, my mom wanted people to sit outside around a fire. My best friend and her husband brought over a little chimenea that my mom requested. On those nights, I thought about killing myself. I absolutely could not deal with what was going on around me. 

My favorite season became so cold and dark so quickly. Not only was I depressed, the “coldness” only made the next couple of weeks even worse. While battling these feelings and thoughts, I had to be the strong one.  Do you know what it’s like having to pick out clothes for your sibling to wear in a casket? My mom wasn’t able to do it, I had to. I had to pick proper undergarments. I had to pick a bra, underwear, right down to her shoes. It made me sick to my stomach. For those of you who knew Ari, you knew she had a lot of clothes, some still unworn. I picked out a dress that still had tags on it, that seemed to be the most suitable. I wanted to throw up. 

After her
clothes were picked out, I had to go to the funeral home to view her body. Now, for those of you who have experience death before, you know that when you go to a funeral, the individual looks different then the last time you saw them. I was scared. I could vividly remember my last memory of her, and now, that was about to be destroyed forever. As I entered the somber room, I walked up to my sister. She had scars on her face, her nails were missing, her face was swollen, her nose was broken. There goes my stomach turning again. 

Imagine my
mother going up to her child and pinpointing every scar on her lifeless body, lying in a casket. “I know your face baby, you didn’t have those scars before.” These words were like nails on a chalkboard, scarring me, as I began to experience the worst day of my life. 

Every night after this day, for three hundred and sixty-five days, I would close my eyes before going to sleep only to see those images. Seeing flashes of her nails being ripped off, the scars on her arms. These images stayed and still stay in my mind. I imagined the night that she died. Did she scream? Did she say, “Omg I’m about to die”? I will never know. These were the thoughts running in my head every single night before going to bed, and every single morning as I would wake up to face another day, without her.

Later that
week, I had to go find a dress to wear on the day of my sister’s funeral. Ari wasn’t someone who just “threw on” an outfit and left the house, she dressed to impress. I always admired her for that even though it took her forever to get ready, she put on. So, my best friends took me out to search for the right dress, one that would fit the occasion and help me pay my respects to my beautiful fashionista. I was tired of looking and I was becoming very frustrated of having to do something that I didn’t even want to do in the first place.

I knew a local
designer that I consider to be a friend, not only is she a very talented designer but she is also an amazing person because of the most gracious act of kindness she did for me. I reached out to a couple of my friends in hopes that I could get in touch with this designer.  I wanted to reach out to her because I needed to wear something that no one had, a dress that would fit this melancholy event. This wonderful designer’s name is Latasha Hall. Thank you, Tasha. 

Again, on another rainy day, my girlfriends and I set out to find this dress. I went to Latasha’s office, she had a handful of dresses and I just kept trying them on until I found the right one. This was like finding a wedding dress, but it wasn’t for a wedding. I was trying on a dress to wear so that I could properly say goodbye to my sister. I found that dress, and when I did tears immediately started running down my face, and I began to sob. I just couldn’t believe that this was my reality. But thanks to Latasha, I was able to wear a beautiful dress. 

September 30th, 2016, the day of the funeral. Ariana would never be able to be my maid of honor, but I was her’s that day. The service was beautiful, just how I imagined it to be. People who have never experienced a celebration of life came up to me and said that they were at peace. I thank my Pastor Danny Scotton for that. Police escorts, people from the community all came to pay their respects. She is truly loved. I’m just sad that September and every September for the rest of my life will feel so cold.