When my mom died, I became the oldest member of our little branch on the family tree. At 39. It’s a sobering reality. I’m eight years older than my sister and four years older than my brother. I’ve always taken my job as the big sister – and now the matriarch, I guess – very seriously. It’s my job to take care of them, to comfort them, to come to their rescue when needed. But more often than not lately, the roles have reversed and they have taken care of, comforted and rescued me.
These past few months, I have missed my parents like crazy and frankly, I’ve been fighting to keep my head above water. I get out of bed every day and do what I need to do for the most part, but it’s like someone turned the color off the movie and we’re all walking around in black and white. There’ve been some happy moments in there too, but I’ve also really been struggling with some things. Unfortunately, just because I suffered a major loss earlier this year, the world didn’t stop turning. And there are people out there who really just don’t care.
One day last week I was having a particularly bad day and sent a text to my sister about it. What she wrote me back made me burst into tears. Not out of sadness, but because it was true…and I was so proud of her maturity. I’m paraphrasing here, but essentially she told me:
I had an epiphany about your situation this morning. We have the two best guardian angels in Heaven. Nothing bad is going to happen. This stuff is just a sign to take a leap of faith and move on. I felt for awhile that God was working against me, but then I realized it was for a reason!
How did my baby sister (and baby brother) get so smart?
