My Sissy (May 1, 1969 - January 9, 2007)
Every year for the past seven years, I have hated this day more than any other. Seven years ago, January 8th was the last day of a "normal" existence for me because seven years ago on January 9th, my oldest sister was murdered. Seven years ago on January 8th I thought that losing a sibling was a horrific thing that only happened to other people. I would hear stories on the news or hear of someone's sister or brother dying from another source and think that it was a tragedy. I thought that it was something awful that only happened to other people and could never happen to me. But then it did happen to me. On January 9th, 2007 I got a phone call in my classroom from the front office, telling me that my husband was there to see me. At 11:08 in the morning. There was no other reason he would be there but to give me bad news and I knew right away something was horribly wrong. My poor husband had to tell me that my sister had been murdered and it changed my life forever. It changed me forever.
I lost my best friend.
My sister was amazing. She was a Child Psychologist who specialized in Autism and Special Education. She had an enormous affect on every life she touched, in a wonderful way. She was hilarious and kind and generous and loving. She made everyone around her feel loved and had a special way of brightening your day, just by seeing her infectious smile. She wasn't perfect, she had some issues and she was difficult at times but she was my sister and because she was 11 years older than I am, she was like my second, super cool mom. I miss her. I miss her every single day. Even more so since I started going through IF. She could not have children of her own, she struggled with IF for years and it was a horrible, life altering struggle for her. It changed her and I didn't understand it at the time but now I wish more than anything that she were still here just so I could tell her that I finally understand how and why she was so crazy sometimes. I finally understand why she was bitter towards my other sisters when they got pregnant so easily. I finally understand her need to avoid the topics of pregnancy and babies and why she was so incredibly livid when our cousin had an abortion. I understand the anger and pain that she felt and I am pissed that I couldn't understand it then and am pissed at myself for not trying harder to put myself in her shoes so I could be her shoulder to cry on.
My sister and her husband ended up adopting a beautiful little boy and I am grateful for the joy he brought her and the happiness she was able to experience, in having him, for a few years before she died. I just wish she could have had more time with her son. I wish she could have had more time on this earth.
Tomorrow, I mourn the loss of my sister and an amazing life cut short. Today I mourn the loss of a life lived without the tremendous pain of not having my sister.