My father is in hospice care. We know that we will be making a trip to Texas very soon for his funeral. He is 86 and has had a very long and healthy life, and he's done exactly what's he wanted with his life, so I believe I have come to accept this.
But my sister - the one who was my mother, my protector, my playmate, my teacher, and the only person who loved me unconditionally the first 32 years of my life - just found out she has melanoma stage IV. She has months, maybe weeks to live.
She did all the right things - six trips to two doctors since she discovered the mole on her foot in January, five times she was told it was just a mole and don't worry, it's fine. The sixth time they finally did a biopsy and now it's too late.
When I was little, she is the one who kept us safe when my parents brought out the guns and started pointing them during their raging fights. She's the one who carried my seriously injured kitty begging for help, pleading and not stopping until my kitty was helped. She was our Easter Bunny and our Santa Claus, agreeing with my parents that she would not receive any gifts because she was the oldest, and the gifts should go to the younger kids. She changed our diapers and made our birthday cakes. She comforted us when we were hurt. She pulled one of my siblings out of drug addiction.
She is our family counselor, she's the one we call when we have a problem. She's talked to me for hours at at time when I'm trying to deal with the past abuse from our mother, or even when I just can't find something I misplaced; she's always been there to help and make everything better.
Her life has been a very difficult one; she has dealt with chronic pain her entire adult life, yet she has never complained and always, always has had time for anyone who needs some kind words or some wisdom.
When she told me the diagnosis, the next words out of her mouth were, "I'm worried about you, if you will be all right."
A big part of me has always belonged to her. I don't know what I will do when she's gone. I can feel my heart breaking.
If you have any spare prayers or vibes, please direct them to my sister Linda in Texas (don't send me any - I am okay - please send them to her). Thanks so much.
But my sister - the one who was my mother, my protector, my playmate, my teacher, and the only person who loved me unconditionally the first 32 years of my life - just found out she has melanoma stage IV. She has months, maybe weeks to live.
She did all the right things - six trips to two doctors since she discovered the mole on her foot in January, five times she was told it was just a mole and don't worry, it's fine. The sixth time they finally did a biopsy and now it's too late.
When I was little, she is the one who kept us safe when my parents brought out the guns and started pointing them during their raging fights. She's the one who carried my seriously injured kitty begging for help, pleading and not stopping until my kitty was helped. She was our Easter Bunny and our Santa Claus, agreeing with my parents that she would not receive any gifts because she was the oldest, and the gifts should go to the younger kids. She changed our diapers and made our birthday cakes. She comforted us when we were hurt. She pulled one of my siblings out of drug addiction.
She is our family counselor, she's the one we call when we have a problem. She's talked to me for hours at at time when I'm trying to deal with the past abuse from our mother, or even when I just can't find something I misplaced; she's always been there to help and make everything better.
Her life has been a very difficult one; she has dealt with chronic pain her entire adult life, yet she has never complained and always, always has had time for anyone who needs some kind words or some wisdom.
When she told me the diagnosis, the next words out of her mouth were, "I'm worried about you, if you will be all right."
A big part of me has always belonged to her. I don't know what I will do when she's gone. I can feel my heart breaking.
If you have any spare prayers or vibes, please direct them to my sister Linda in Texas (don't send me any - I am okay - please send them to her). Thanks so much.
