Have you ever walked through the grocery store and seen people you know, people who are seemingly in a blissful state with their family? Then thought...I'm down one. The fighting at the grocery store doesn't happen anymore. The children in my care are approaching 12 and 8. My nearly 12 year old will be heading to middle school, and yes, while it is just on the other side of the building that she's been attending for the past 2 years, it's a huge leap!
Don't get me wrong, the girls fight. It's natural. Or at least, I tell myself that. My sister and I fought like cats and dogs until she moved out on her own and got married. Then we became inseparable. It breaks my heart to be so far from my sister now. And I could never be more thankful that God brought her here when he did.
You see...it's just her and I. The two of us. No other siblings. We only have each other. And, I am immeasurably thankful for her. While life sometimes gets in the way and years seem to pass by without the chance to see each other, we still have each other. Nothing and I mean nothing can take away the bond that which is sisterhood. The fact that she was here with me, by my side when Cora slipped from this life, was a precious gift. I'm sure it wasn't the gift that she had intended to give me. No one should have to stand with their only sister and watch their baby leave this life.
She could have stepped out. She could have not come at all when I called at 3am. But, she did.
And, like Jesus washing the disciples' feet, my sister helped to lovingly give my baby her last bath, a task that this momma just couldn't bear.
With that said, I hope that my girls can see past their differences, and at some point, learn to be great friends. Maybe that will happen when the oldest moves out and gets married. I just hope that it doesn't take too long. They will miss a tremendous gift if they don't finally see it.
As for my questioning...it's still happening.
I took Cora's bed down over the weekend and cried the entire time. Jay offered to help, but I knew that I needed to do it for me. And God bless that man, he offered to make something special out of it for me so that I'd always have it. While taking her bed down is a huge step, I'm not quite ready to say that I want to see it used in another way. I've taken her clothes out to make a memorial quilt; I put them on the bed, laid my head down on them, and cried. They went back in her dresser.
I don't feel at all strong. It's like a series of 'holding it together' moments in amongst the 'I'm completely losing it' moments. And life...it just keeps on happening.
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