I haven't really been able to write anything since you died last March. I thought I would write to you or about you, but that seemed too hard. Anything else I wanted to write seemed too trivial. So here I am.
When you died, I felt like the ground came out from under my feet. I reached for you to steady me and I found myself groping in emptiness. The very next day I felt your hand take mine and you were there again. I really felt you in my mind. I could see and feel your hand holding mine and I was able to regain my balance. Thanks for that. I really was lost and I'm not sure I could have recovered without your help.
When Becky and I were in Texas emptying your house, I felt you there in the house. Becky was able to drive your truck everywhere and she felt you in the truck. I know you loved that truck, but you died in it and I could not bring myself to drive it. It was cancer that killed you, but still - I kind of blame the truck. That was the worst week of my life, and some how one of the best also. Three sisters are so very much more than two, but two of us can still help each other and love each other enough to make it through.
We laughed a lot about your absolute insane organizational skills. Who has a garage that is so organized that each tool has it's instructions and parts hanging next to it on a pegboard? Who stencils flowers on the shelves in their garage? I still don't know how we managed to empty all those shelves and drawers in a week, but there is one happy neighbor who has screws and nails in plastic boxes divided by size. We did laugh at you, but we sure did cry a lot also.
I have always been proud of you, but I really didn't pay that much attention to your work. You managed to create a structural engineering business in a very male dominated world. The work you did on huge, expensive houses and the respect we saw from contractors was really impressive. Your friends sure did you proud. They told us great stories and took us out to eat. They helped dispose of equipment and furniture that we could not move. They told us how much they will miss you.
The first job I ever had was big sister. I took it very seriously. I still do. When the house was empty I heard you saying goodbye and your hand let go of mine. I remember knowing that it was time for you to go. After all - once your dead, shouldn't you get to do better things than hang around an empty house or hold my hand? There must be a lot of wonderful things for you to go on to. I told you to go. I let go. I miss you.
All my love always, your big sister.
All Good Things Must End
1 week ago