I am the youngest of four half sisters. We all share the same father but each of us has a different mother. In 1997 our dad was killed in a plane crash. His funeral was the first time all four of us had ever been in the same room together.
Distance does not help, but since then we have made an effort to keep in touch and spend a little more time with each other. We didn’t grow up together so we all have different memories about our dad. When we do hang out now, we spend a lot of the time laughing and telling stories about him. Losing a loved one is painful. For me, spending time with those who knew and loved my dad and focusing on the memories is much more comforting than trying to move on.
People that knew my father can look at any one of us four girls and know we are his daughters. We all have his mouth, eyes, and big teeth, but we each have separate traits of his personality as well. Whether it be his sense of humor, his compassion for others, his daredevil attitude, or his vanity. We may “just be half sisters,” but we are all equally him.
After getting to know my sisters over the years I have come to believe that a person’s spirit does not die with a physical death. My sisters and I are our father. We are what is left of him on this earth and he lives within the four of us. We look out for and support each other almost in a parental kind of way. Realizing this has helped me to cope with my father’s death. Even though physically he is gone, I believe he is very much alive in our spirit and our character. When I spend time with my sisters, I am spending time with my dad too.