My Sister

Nope, I don't have a biological sister. But this picture shows a few of my best buds who are like my sisters.  (L-R Marty, Delores, Debbie B, Tangela, DJ, Barbara and me.)  But I do have a sister by way of osmosis.  DJ and I have intermingled with our families all of our lives.  She is part of my family, and I am part of hers. What's that they say?  You can't pick your family, but you can pick your friends.  Sometimes you get stuck with a crappy family.  But not me.  I am blessed in that I have two wonderful families.  And that means that DJs big sister is like my big sister too.  She was already married with kids of her own by the time DJ and I were teenagers.  She was our go-to person when we were in trouble with our mamas and needed bailing out.  She had that perfect balance of being young enough to understand us and our plights, and the maturity enough to know that our mamas were just doing what mamas were supposed to do.  She has been our keeper of secrets, our light in a storm, and the source of much laughter and fun.  She has lived a wonderful life, surrounded by so many people who love her, and a family as close as any I have ever seen.  I guess there is just something really special about sisters, and I have been blessed to see the closeness between DJ and Delores.  They've weathered many storms together, traveled together, camped together, and been the best of soulmates.  It would have been easy to be jealous of Delores and insist that "I am DJ's best friend".  Rather, the only thing I've been jealous of is that I didn't have a sister of my own with which to share that kind of relationship.  I have my brother, with whom I have the best relationship I could imagine, but... after all... he is a boy, and we all know that boys have cooties.  So, since I couldn't have one of my own, I decided years ago that DJ would just have to share.  And she has gladly done so.  My heart is full of so many memories of laughing, crying, praying, scrapbooking, swimming, camping, deck-sitting, singing in the choir beside her, cook-outs, holidays, birthdays, girl talks, etc., and I'm so thankful.

Today I had to do one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life.  I went to visit my sister.  And it could very well have been my last visit.  I pretended to promise myself that I wouldn't cry, but I knew better.  Just the mere thought of going over there has put me on the verge of tears all week long.  I tried to be brave when I walked into her room, and I think I mumbled a few sentences of small talk before I felt my throat begin to constrict.  All I could do was look at her and ask her..."do you really think it is time to go?"  Bless her soul, she just nodded her head and said "yes, I do."  We shared a very sweet time together, talking, sharing, and comforting each other.  As I expected, her thoughts and concerns lie with how her loved ones are hurting, and how she hates it so bad to know what they will go through.  I told her that nothing will ever be the same without her and I can't even stand to think about it, but we know that God's grace will carry us through the grief.  I massaged her back, then rubbed some lotion on her soft skin.  It was very difficult, a very sad time, but a time that I will always treasure.  I did remind her that "it ain't over til it's over", but we also agreed that if God is going to take her from us, that we hope there won't be lingering through a time of suffering.  She was first diagnosed seven years ago, and we talked about how blessed we were to have been given seven more years, and that for most of those years, she was able to travel and enjoy life, and watch her grandchildren grow. 

Between labored breaths, she told me about a conversation she had last week with her oncologist.  After he told her that it was time for hospice, and as her appointment came to an end, she told him that she hated leaving her grandkids.  She said he leaned into her with a hug and told her to remember that she was not leaving them, that it is because of her that they are here, and that she will always live on in them.  She was so touched by his compassion, and I believe that his words gave her comfort.  The circle of life.

I first told her that I wasn't going to say goodbye.  But as we talked, I realized that it was most likely the last time that we would have the opportunity to talk alone, even if I am able to go back and see her again. It is so hard to say the things that we want to say.  It is incredibly painful to watch a loved one slowly slip away.  But in a way, it is a blessing to be able to say what's in your heart as opposed to losing someone suddenly when we are not granted the time to say what we wish we had said.  Delores and I have always been straight shooters with each other, so I told her that I wasn't sure if I would be back over to see her.  She told me it was all right if I didn't come back. I told her that she had been a blessing in my life for many years, and that I admire the grace and dignity with which she has fought.  And that her life is a testimony to so many people. I am so thankful that God gave us the strength to sit and talk, saying the difficult things that were said. Just before I left, I told her that if I don't see her at home, then I'll see her soon in a place where we'll live forever.  I kissed her, told her that I love her, and walked quietly from her room.