I was your sister for over 56 years. You’ve passed away now, but I guess we will be sisters always.
We were our parents’ only children. We couldn’t have been any more different.
You were a free spirit. I liked to stick close to mom.
You grew into a beautiful, popular, outgoing woman with a large social circle. I was plainer and more reserved.
You were a senior going to Central, and I was a freshman going to North.
You married Phil right before I turned 16, and I married later. That’s when our lives became even more different.
I wasn’t married a year before he turned violent. I think you figured it out fairly soon, but you never said anything. However, you did things like tell my doctor, which irritated me. I guess you felt you had to have my back. Like when you decided it was time for me to quit believing in Santa, stop playing with Barbies, shave my legs and armpits, and arranged for Phil’s brother to take me to my freshman dance. It was a responsibility that you probably resented and relished at the same time.
After my divorce, after mom died, I fell into a depression that often paralyzed me. I still struggle. You were the one who took steps to protect my house and get me help.
Then, I can’t remember exactly when, you were diagnosed with that illness. They said a bone marrow transplant would be the way to a longer, higher quality of life. Being the best shot for a match, I was tested. But I wasn’t a match. They found a ‘perfect’ match from an anonymous donor.
You had the transplant a few days before Christmas, spiraled downward, and passed away.
We were the best and worst. We ran hot and cold. I’m grateful we ended on a warm note.
I thought there would be a time when we would be crazy old ladies together.
I miss you every day.