Thursday, December 4, 2014


December 4 Do Over: Hindsight is the one thing we never benefit from in the present.  Is there one moment you wish that you could do-over?

"Are you going to have an intervention for your sister?" my cousin asked.
"NO!" was the definite answer.

I have two little sisters. Did you know?

I talk about one of them, TheFish, all the time.

The other is a more sensitive subject... She's our baby. She went to live with my dad when my parents split fir the last time.

I saw her over the summer for the first time in nearly five years.

Now is the part where I'm supposed to say that I wish I could have a "do over" for that day.
I'm not sure that's entirely true.

The last time I had seen her, five years ago, was the day of my brother's memorial service.  This year I saw her on the day of my grandmother's memorial service.

My regrets aren't about my sister. Maybe they should be.  Maybe I am a terrible person. I don't know.

She's a stranger.  Taller than I remember.  Her voice sounds foreign,  her features unfamiliar.
We awkwardly avoided each other for a day and a half. Then I complimented her shoes. We made uncomfortable small talk for a few scant minutes until our aunt interrupted.

Truth: I didn't feel a connection.

I don't miss her. That probably makes me a terrible person.

Maybe it is because I was mourning my gramma so intensely; because I was dreading TheFish leaving to return to the great rainy North later that afternoon.

That day, the day of my gramma's memorial, is hardly more clear than that of BabyBrother five years before.  I know that I dont regret anything though.  I held my tongue when appropriate.  I told anecdotes about Gramma that she would appreciate. I supported my mother in her grief.

I do have regrets though...
Most of all, I regret not calling Gramma more when she was healthy. I wish I could do-over all of the calls I didn't return right away, the emails I forgot to respond to,  the calls I didnt make, the visits I didn't plan.

I meant to write about Gramma and how much I love her; how she always told me that I was her favorite; the way she treated my small troubles seriously; how she always fed us dessert for dinner.

And all of that is trye.

But I  didn't know how much I needed to acknowledge the strange collision of my grief over Gramma and the lack of emotion over my littlest sister.

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