Entry 1: darn my therapist
I live a pretty fulfilled life, I have a loving Husband, some wonderful birds, great friends, nice house, an amazing job, a lovely daughter and yet why in the midst of all of this must I be haunted with the death of my family. My therapist suggested that I should write down my thoughts in a diary and keep its contents to myself, whether it helps or not is unknown but so far I have only started this entry to appease her as she is quite stubborn about these things. The last time I denied and didn't follow her guidelines she tore my ear off. I don't really think I need therapy at all but my Husband insists that there are lingering feelings and thoughts from growing up I must sort so in a way I guess I am also doing this to appease my husband. Funny how so far everything being written down isn't of my will but the people around me. I know they mean well and I do know that there are parts of me I can improve on, but I still find it quite unnecessary.
Entry 2: Maybe I do need help
Just as luck would have it, the disappearance of both of my siblings rears their nasty thoughts back up in my head. On the news the other night, it was said that a few bodies were found on Mount Ellington up in west Canada. While most of the bodies found were male, the news did indicate that there was one female body found along with them. The shocking part of it all was that the bodies were mostly skeletal, which doesn't make sense; the ice cold of the mountain shouldn't allow bodies to decay like that. For the most part, when hikers looking to reach the summit of taller mountains such as K2 or Everest die on the mountain, their flesh remains in tact for a lot longer than a corpse down here would. The even stranger part is that, while it is not impossible to have decayed that far, I can't be certain of the ages of the corpses. There are too many variables to conclude that this is normal, but the most damning clue I have so far that this has to be at least somewhat suspicious is the fact that I'm almost certain one of those corpses has to be one of my siblings. There is just no way around it. Something just tells me it's her, and it's a miracle in the first place that they were able to get those bodies down the mountain. God, even thinking about how strange it all is hurts my head. It seems tomorrow I'll have to give Henry a call; he has family in Canada, which may make it easier to identify the bodies. It seems I'll have a new topic to discuss in therapy.
Entry 3: Damn it all
I can't sleep. It's the same night as the last entry, and I just can't sleep anytime I close my eyes. I can just see and imagine growing up again, seeing my brother for the last time, having the last dinner with my mother, the last visit with my sister, and when my father passed away from an accident soon after. None of it made any sense. God, I'm angry. My brother and mother most likely left this world around the same time. Instead of my mother wanting to live for both of her other children, she selfishly left because of one. She left my sister and I alone; she left before I even got married. My father and sister are no better; they left me years later and only months apart themselves. I didn't ever know what happened to my sister; she just stopped calling and texting, and when I asked Henry about it, he said she up and left. She broke it off with him, moved out, and left. As for where, he didn't know. Sometimes I had wondered if anything my brother told her influenced her decision to disappear, but now we fucking know. She left for the same reason my brother did. For some "exploration," they were always closer to each other. What could he have told her that was so amazing that she would leave Dad and me and that she would leave Henry? *Sigh*
I still remember when we had hope for my brother. When he went on his job up in the mountains, I suspected him a little, as it felt like he was just trying to forget his ex, but I guess it went deeper than that. After a year of hearing nothing from him, we called it in as a missing persons case, but nothing was done—not a single damn thing. Not a thing could be found. After losing hope, my mother fell into a deep depression and shortly passed. I still hate him for that; if he were alive or not, I would never forgive him for what he did to us. I don't want to write anymore about this. I don't want to write anymore at all, but I think it's helping, if only a little. I'll be calling Henry tomorrow to confirm a few things with him.
Entry 5:
A full week has passed, and my feeling turned out to be true. It was Lorraine. While I had expected it, it still just doesn't feel right at all. I settled it in my head years ago that she was dead, but hearing it from Henry that it was her just makes my blood go cold. She was my younger sister. I still remember how she would smile at me while holding out her newest little experiment. God, when did it all go wrong? When did it all change?
Henry asked me if it was okay for the police to hand Lorraine's things to him, and I accepted with the condition that he would mail them to me after. I know just how important Lorraine was to him and understand that he needs some time to process this as well. I just hope he doesn't do anything crazy.