Beautifully Lurid

"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

  This quote, by Marilyn Monroe, was a mantra in which Sabrina often echoed in relationships. She was constantly riddled by insecurities, anxieties, and paranoias, but she somehow never dropped the mentality that she was a person worthy of respect and understanding. She demanded that even when she was trying, and you wanted to strangle her, you never give up on her. It is a strength I've seen few people wield, yet none like her.

  Life wasn't easy on her. She made her mistakes and often found herself in downward spirals and I'm sure for her life seemed unyielding to her attempts at bettering herself. Addiction had its fangs dug deep into her and she was constantly battling it in ways I'm sure no one will ever be able to appreciate. I would constantly argue with her that she should just walk away from her cravings, but it was an enslavement I'm lucky enough to say I can't wholly understand. I can't imagine that lack of understanding made things easier on her.

  She was so fond of her childhood. She clung on to the happy times of yesterday like a photograph of a dearly departed. Even with so many life-changing, devastating events, she still loved to wear her rose-colored glasses when looking back. She would often reminisce about chasing me around the house and laughing at me when I would run to the couch like it was a safe zone. I think an inside joke only we would understand, but such a simple memory would always be looked at so fondly by her. It was a time when she recognized her family. A time when life wasn't complicated. She missed that so much.

  Her kryptonite was family. All of us. It's so weird for me to recognize the fact that she looked up to me. Not because she wanted to be me, but because she was so proud of me. Any little accomplishment I would have would be such a big thing to her. She loved to show me off as her trophy and it never failed to make me feel so special that my big sister thought of me so highly. When she angered me though, it was the end of the world for her. She would be visually distraught over causing any negative emotions to the people she loved, even when she would mask the fact with anger.

  Her love and compassion kept her in that state of awe for her family. She loved how I found a relationship and was in awe for our love. She loved that her little sister had a daughter and was in awe over her niece. She loved how her other little sister was so smart and so insecure but could easily push those insecurities aside with humor or strength. She loved that her other little sister had Down syndrome and it made her so huggable and so lovable. She was older than all of us, but somehow still looked up to us with that awe. She had a need for inclusivity of our lives which I feel was often ignored.

  I had a text from her where she was upset that I didn't come see her during the holidays last year. I was supposed too, but instead of coming to see her I decided to spend the day at Mom's house instead. I told her nonchalantly that I had decided to stay and drink so I wouldn't be able to see her. She didn't want to fight or argue about it, she just wanted recognition that I hurt her and I wasn't willing to provide it. I never did apologize for that, and now I wish I had. All she wanted was to see family on the holidays and I just brushed her off like it wasn't worth my time. I'd give all the time I have left, how much or how little, just to take that back. I couldn't give her any of my time then because I had something to prove. Something that now seems so fucking stupid.

  She lived with David and I a few times. It really never ended very well, but I still think those were some of the happiest times of her adult life. I never had the strength to tell her when she was alive, but the truth is as miserable as she could make me, the reason I always let her back in was because I really did enjoy having her around. When she wasn't crippled by her mental issues, she was a genuine joy to be around. Her enthusiasm for nostalgia, family, and love was infectious. She would talk fondly of the time we attempted to be extreme couponers. I think it was solely because it was time we spent together. We were both shit at the coupons.

  One of my happiest Sabrina memories, and trust me I have many, was when we got an a car accident. A large industrial van smashed into the rear of the car, knocking us off the road and spinning us 180º. She wasn't sure if she had a warrant or not in another state, so she didn't want to be there when the police arrived. She got out of the car and noticed that the guys in the van that crashed into us were laughing. She walked right up to the van, decked the driver a couple of times and then left. She was a fucking beast!

  I'm going to miss her coming over and demanding a cup of coffee and a cigarette. We spent so much time on the porch reminiscing. So much laughter over stupid memories. I'm going to miss seeing her cry-laugh—this unique moment that would happen where she would spontaneously burst into laughter mid cry. I'll miss her crazy dance she would do where she'd laugh while stomping her feet. I'll miss hearing her boss people around. Damn she was bossy.

  Most of all I'll miss her in every family photo. It's such a shame life has unfolded in the way it has. Every picture she's not in has been, and now forever will be, incomplete. There will always be an unfilled void left in her absence. Somewhere out there is a growing playlist of really sad sappy music that we "don't know nothing about" that will continue to grow unheard and unworshipped as gospel. I'll miss being called fucker, and being called a fag. She's seriously the only person I know who can genuinely insult you as a compliment. People now have to login to Facebook, and look at their phones, without seeing wildly inappropriate memes and GIF's. Something I'm sure I wasn't alone in hating, and I won't be alone in missing.

  She leaves behind so many families. For someone so alone she had a way of connecting people. Her childhood family, her boyfriend and his family, her children. She has a legacy that will continue to live on and spread her spirit around in her absence. Isn't that what we're all after anyways? A legacy? Somehow in all her failures she managed to accomplish that and I'm so very proud of her. The last few months of her life she started to turn things around for herself. She was holding down a job and working hard. She managed to buy everyone gifts. We could all die at any given moment, and she did, but how fucking amazing is it that she left behind a gift for everyone.

  She bought Christmas gifts for everyone. So was so happy for everyone to get their gifts. She thought real hard about each person she purchased a gift for and it showed. Honestly every gift was perfect, and it was a perfect goodbye from her. She bought David a Sonic the Hedgehog t-shirt and socks, Olivia some Ouija board socks, Hanna a Post Malone t-shirt, and me a candle. It was how she thought and remembered all of us. One last gift from her. A symbol of her love for all of us. It felt like she knew her end was coming and wanted to gift us her love one last time.

  I know regardless of her mistakes I'll always think of her as my beautiful big sister. I'll always think of her as perfect. She was, as her Instagram name goes, beautifully lurid. It was her imperfections that made her qualities so endearing. It was her failures that made her strength tangible. Her anger that made her smile glow and light up a room. It was her craziness that made her relatable in such a profound way.

  Sabrina Lee Pernisco, I love you and I promise to keep you with me every day.

  Your story is not yet over and will continue on in all of the people you've loved. You could be selfish, impatient and a whole lot insecure. You made mistakes, were out of control and at times very difficult to handle. But I'll gladly take you at your worst again just to have the opportunity to be with you at your best.

  Rest in peace big sis.