I want to go someplace where it's safe to scream at the top of my lungs, as if when my voice is finally silenced it will all be better - just a bad dream.
I want to know why. How is this God's plan?
I told her tonight that I wish I could shoulder at least half of her pain and discomfort, and she thanked me and we cried together.
I meant it.
I want the earth to stop revolving and let us get off for a while; let us have some quiet time together without any talk about collapsing health, or mean and uncaring assistants at doctors offices, or the inadequacies of the so-called advantage healthcare plans, or side effects of medications ...
I know we can't hide from her fate, but I want to.
I want to hold on to my big sister and squeeze her. Of the four siblings, she's not the strongest.
I want to protect her.
I need her.
I want her to know how much I love her. I've told her over and over for many years, but I want her to really know what her life has meant to mine.
I want her to know that I feel as though someone has sucked out everything I have - my guts, my heart, my oxygen, my faith, my whole being.
Again.
That's how much I love my big sister.
I want her to know what a beautiful human being she is.
She is selfless. No one else I know is as concerned more with the needs of others than my big sister.
She doesn't deserve this - not at all.
God's plan?
I want to relive the night she flew in from Illinois to Miami to visit with Mom, Dad, my younger sister and me. I was about seven or eight years old and Mom knew how excited I was to have my big sister coming for a visit. So, she woke me in the middle of the night so I could give her hugs and kisses.
I want to thank her for buying me my first pair of pantyhose and teaching me how to put them on. Unfortunately, she had to buy four more pairs, because I kept putting my thumb through them.
I want to play racquet ball with her one more time, and tease her for getting so sweaty.
I want to go to a parade with her so we can hide our tears together behind our sunglasses as the American flag passes.
I want her to know how appreciative I am for her giving me a home when I needed one. She and her husband and four children shared their three-bedroom apartment with me when I needed a place to live.
I want her to know what a good Auntie and babysitter she was to my son. To this day, he enjoys being with her.
I want to look at old photos with her, talking and laughing about those times; the big holiday celebrations where we'd spend hours at the dining room table.
I love laughing with her. Everything we've ever done together has been filled with high octane laughter.
I cherish those memories.
I want her to cook one more Thanksgiving dinner, so we can chuckle together about her lack of culinary expertise.
I want her to know that she's the only person I've ever shared so many secrets with, and I know they are safe.
I wish I knew more about the man she gave her heart to years after her husband passed away.
I love talking to her everyday on my way to work and on my way home. I already miss those conversations.
Together we bitch about our jobs.
I concede - hers is far worse.
I'm hoping she's not fearful, but how can she not be?
I don't want to be angry, but I am.
My big sister lies in bed at night, while the world is asleep, including the physicians that failed her. She knows there is nothing that can be done for her. Cancer is killing her, yet it's not taking her soon enough.
I am angry.
Forget about that eclipse trip we had planned together; her one and only "bucket list" item she's ever asked for in her entire life.
She wanted so little. So much like Mother.
