I know a lady who has been through more than most can imagine. Her mom left her off and on with my grandparents, until she started living there permanently. Eventually my grandparents adopted her. I was very young then. She is six years older than I.
What I remember is a really cool young aunt (I didn't even call her aunt when I was little) who I got to see most weekends when my sister and I, and sometimes our cousin, would stay all night with my grandparents many Friday nights. She had a cool bedroom with older kid stuff (or so it seemed to me). I remember looking through her yearbooks in awe of her and her classmates. I remember a few times when a boyfriend would even stop by to visit her, one was in a baseball uniform (how cool is that!).
I was in awe of her growing up. She was the closest thing to a big sister I've ever had.
But I also remember lots of arguments between her and my grandmother. To this day, I'm not sure what all of it was about. There were hints of issues, but I was still pretty young. It hurt me to see them fighting, but I didn't know why, and these are the kinds of things my family doesn't discuss much, to this day.
And then she was gone. She left home. I didn't see her again for a few years. I didn't know why, really. But it seemed like it was right when I would have liked to ask her advice on growing up and on boys. I missed her like crazy, but I didn't tell anyone that.
I think I saw her a few times in between, but eventually, she moved back to the area, with a little girl! But she had another, younger daughter she didn't get to bring with her, whose father pushed to get custody of, kind of behind her back. I guess that daughter blames her for leaving to this day, but what would you do if your older daughter needed extra care and heart surgeries, and you wanted family nearby to help out? What if you thought you could get that younger daughter back once you were settled, but it never worked out that way? What if the younger daughter's father had rich parents, who could afford to pay good lawyers to quickly get your custody taken away?
I was glad she was back, and soon she remarried and had a son, too. But by the time she moved back, I was grown and about to get married, then soon moved away myself. I wasn't as close to her as I might have been.
I've never even met her younger daughter, although family always said she resembled me, and I did see pictures as she grew. She's a mother herself now.
I got to watch the older daughter grow, and picture what it might be like to have my own daughter someday. But, she passed away, much, much too young, at only about 10 years old. How do you survive losing a child? I have no idea. I wasn't even a mother yet myself then, and I had no idea how to offer any comfort to my aunt. I wish I could have.
Just a few years later, I had my own daughter, and every year after 10 years old, it hits me that I've already gotten to spend that much more time with my daughter than my aunt did. It doesn't seem right, but it does make me cherish time with my kids more than I might otherwise.
Somehow, my aunt pulled her life back together yet again. She divorced a man that didn't treat her right. She got through a court case against her that was completely unfounded. She got a decent house with a decent man who saw her through the death of her daughter. She raised her son. She got a better job. She went back to college.
And then, her own health problems got worse and worse. I'll skip the details, because, again, I don't even know all of them. But a few years ago, it came to this. She needed a liver transplant, or she would die. A year and a half ago, it nearly came to that, but she pulled through what I don't think most could. She went home from the hospital, only to end up back there every few months. But she fought for her life, and won again and again, miraculously.
One hospital took her off of their transplant list, and it took a long time to get on another and get moved to the top of their list. I'm sure I can't count the number of prayers that have gone up for her. And God answered. He always does, of course, but not always the way we want or in ways we can understand. This time, she got that liver. Just yesterday in fact.
She still needs our prayers. But my hope and prayer is that, this time, she will be given the chance at the kind of life she deserves. I want her to have the chance, the time, to reconcile with her younger daughter, to see her son get married and pull his own life together. I want her to get to know how much I love her, because I'm sure I've never said it right. I want her to get to spend time with all the family and friends who have been pulling for her for so long. I want us all to see that miracles really do happen, and I want us to see it in her.
I love you, Aunt Cindy. Stay strong!
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Friday, July 12, 2013
This one's for you, little sis!
This is my virtual toast to my sister, the day before her wedding.
I remember wanting a sister. I remember holding you as a baby. I remember you throwing up on, well, just about everyone. I remember telling people at school that my baby sister would clean out my toy box for me, meaning, she takes EVERYTHING out of it, and thinking I'd come up with the most hilarious joke ever (forgive me, I was probably six years old). I remember long summer days getting shut out of the house with you until lunch, then being sent right back out until dinner. I remember playing with the neighbor girls, and you tagging right along. I remember you getting upset when those girls and I would beat you in every board and card game we tried (you were by far the youngest "on the hill"). I may have suggested a few times that we let you win, but not often. I remember dragging you down the driveway to the bus stop for school, but not bothering to ask you why you didn't want to go. I remember mostly finding you annoying, but being ready to put anyone else who might pick on you in their place immediately. I remember Saturday morning cartoons, and watching them way past the age I might have liked. I remember playing Legos and Barbies endlessly, and the floods and the elaborate back stories that I would set up for us to play along to (I don't think you ever got to plan our play). I remember Dad letting us play with a few Christmas presents early one year, and that none of us told Mom until you and I were grown (I often wonder if he told her sooner?).
I don't remember much before you were born. Basically, I just remember you always being there, a given but sometimes annoying part of my life. I think I've only recently come to appreciate you as much as I now do. And now I tell my own two kids that they will appreciate each other more one day. I say it is at least because they'll want help taking care of us and paying for the nursing home when we're old. But really, I think you and I have both just finally grown up.
And I only recently have learned to appreciate what you must have gone through as the younger child, by watching it through my younger one's perspective. I married another first-born, then had a first-born of my own as our only child for over five years. But now, I'm guessing I understand better. I find myself watching my son look up to his big sister, want hugs from her when she's unwilling, want to go into her room even if it is to help her make her bed just to be there, and I think, oh, that's what the following was all about. You wanted to be like me, but I didn't want you following after me, and now, I wish I had been more considerate.
Then, when you were just growing up, I was gone. I didn't think of it then, but it must have been hard in ways. And it may have been just when I would have started finding you interesting again. Maybe I could have offered advice that would have made a difference in your life, but I wasn't there to see you growing up.
By the time you were 14, you were taller than I, but you will always be my little sis. And now you are getting married, marrying a good man, the right man. And I know you will be good for each other. I find myself wanting again to offer advice, and you know I will if you want it. But really, it comes down to just a few things...
You are getting married tomorrow before God, don't forget it. Love each other, even when you don't particularly like each other. Don't think marriage is 50/50, because it's not. In a good one, it's 75/25 some days, maybe even 99/1 at times, but then it flips, and you realize it's been 25/75 or 1/99 for a while, too. Just don't give up on each other, not when you've found the right person. The rest is just the details, the living.
I'm proud of you for going back to school, and for marrying a good guy. Just stay on those paths and I'm certain you'll be fine. I love you!
I remember wanting a sister. I remember holding you as a baby. I remember you throwing up on, well, just about everyone. I remember telling people at school that my baby sister would clean out my toy box for me, meaning, she takes EVERYTHING out of it, and thinking I'd come up with the most hilarious joke ever (forgive me, I was probably six years old). I remember long summer days getting shut out of the house with you until lunch, then being sent right back out until dinner. I remember playing with the neighbor girls, and you tagging right along. I remember you getting upset when those girls and I would beat you in every board and card game we tried (you were by far the youngest "on the hill"). I may have suggested a few times that we let you win, but not often. I remember dragging you down the driveway to the bus stop for school, but not bothering to ask you why you didn't want to go. I remember mostly finding you annoying, but being ready to put anyone else who might pick on you in their place immediately. I remember Saturday morning cartoons, and watching them way past the age I might have liked. I remember playing Legos and Barbies endlessly, and the floods and the elaborate back stories that I would set up for us to play along to (I don't think you ever got to plan our play). I remember Dad letting us play with a few Christmas presents early one year, and that none of us told Mom until you and I were grown (I often wonder if he told her sooner?).
I don't remember much before you were born. Basically, I just remember you always being there, a given but sometimes annoying part of my life. I think I've only recently come to appreciate you as much as I now do. And now I tell my own two kids that they will appreciate each other more one day. I say it is at least because they'll want help taking care of us and paying for the nursing home when we're old. But really, I think you and I have both just finally grown up.
And I only recently have learned to appreciate what you must have gone through as the younger child, by watching it through my younger one's perspective. I married another first-born, then had a first-born of my own as our only child for over five years. But now, I'm guessing I understand better. I find myself watching my son look up to his big sister, want hugs from her when she's unwilling, want to go into her room even if it is to help her make her bed just to be there, and I think, oh, that's what the following was all about. You wanted to be like me, but I didn't want you following after me, and now, I wish I had been more considerate.
Then, when you were just growing up, I was gone. I didn't think of it then, but it must have been hard in ways. And it may have been just when I would have started finding you interesting again. Maybe I could have offered advice that would have made a difference in your life, but I wasn't there to see you growing up.
By the time you were 14, you were taller than I, but you will always be my little sis. And now you are getting married, marrying a good man, the right man. And I know you will be good for each other. I find myself wanting again to offer advice, and you know I will if you want it. But really, it comes down to just a few things...
You are getting married tomorrow before God, don't forget it. Love each other, even when you don't particularly like each other. Don't think marriage is 50/50, because it's not. In a good one, it's 75/25 some days, maybe even 99/1 at times, but then it flips, and you realize it's been 25/75 or 1/99 for a while, too. Just don't give up on each other, not when you've found the right person. The rest is just the details, the living.
I'm proud of you for going back to school, and for marrying a good guy. Just stay on those paths and I'm certain you'll be fine. I love you!
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