It was twenty-five years ago. My sister was engaged to be married, the first of my siblings to take that plunge. The wedding was planned for April with the hopes that perhaps spring would come early. Valentine's Day weekend, she and her fiance, ManWithPast, came home to finish the wedding plans, write out the invitations.
I cannot tell the part that happened next. It's too many details, and it's not my story to tell. But I will tell you the ending. ManWithPast drove his car off a cliff, straight into an icy lake. Deliberately.
He did not survive the impact.
I was a sophomore in college, the same age as Daughter is now. I remember the phone call, my mother telling me the news. My boyfriend was visiting, and he drove me home. Even though I got home in the middle of the night, my sister was awake, just lying in the dark in the bedroom we’d shared when we were little.
It was twenty-five years ago. No one talks about it any more. I don't think of it much any more. Except sometimes in the middle of the night. When it is February, and I can't sleep.