The long loss
About 17 years ago I lost my big sister; yet, my grief just continuously cycles because her story isn't over. She chose to sever our relationship and I've been rounding the grief cycle over losing someone who’s living ever since.
The truth is, it has really become something that just "is." It isn't how I want it to be, but the loss hadn't been so heavy in recent years- merely - how it was.
But then Grandmother Anne died and the loss of time and memories missed, seems heavy again. I think it is because I know how much my grandmother loved and missed her too. In one of our more recent visits, while her mind was still clear, she asked about her, and I felt the hurt that I saw in my grandmother's eyes. There will be more losses the more time that passes and it pains me to think about how many will there be before our relationship is restored. Or will it ever be this side of heaven? I wonder if she even misses us, or misses me.
Today is Sarah's birthday. And this one feels heavy. I don’t know how else to describe it other than to say that she’s been on my mind all day long. So just in case….
Happy birthday sister. Grandmother loved you. She kept the most recent photo of you that we had on her computer desk. She asked about you last fall. There was a point in time when I would be asked about my siblings and I would tell people I have two sisters because explaining the relationship that we have, or rather don't have, was too painful. But now, I always proudly say that I have three sisters, because I’d rather feel a pang of sadness than not share who you are and consequently think about who I wish you were. Savannah asks about you too even though you never met her or Wyatt. I was in the Boston airport recently and had the crazy idea that I should look around- just in case you were there too. I don’t think you live in Boston, but that's a lot closer to where you are than Texas. And in case you have ever been concerned about how you would be received after all this time- I would want to hug you- but out of caution and the unknown of your feelings, I would ask if I could. I think I would cry- which isn’t out of the norm for me necessarily, but you don’t know that. I would have so many questions, but wouldn’t want to push you away, so I would probably try my hardest to be quiet and give you space to break the silence when you’re ready.
This wouldn’t have always been my response, but in this season- I think it would be. But in a season of loss, your birthday has only reminded me of the long loss with you. And I will continue to believe that the rest of your birthdays won’t always be this way.