It’s Mother’s Day.
Today, like every day now, feels simultaneously thoughtfully purposeful and completely accidental.
This incredible human laughed at me, cried, shouted in my face, showered me with kisses, sassed me all day.
I love her like I couldn’t love anything else. I am constantly on the edge of worry that everything I am doing is wrong. The other edge is truly fog – I am so tired and so behind.
She is my own flesh and blood – kind of. Her own mother, my own sister, is gone. The kind of gone that never comes back. The kind of gone where grief overcomes reality and it is like waves that suck you under until you’re too tired to fight your way to the surface. The kind of gone that slowly filters out the pain of past hurts. The kind of gone that is so final, it seems unreal – still.
The day she was born I held her in my arms and cried. My whole being desperate to hold her forever. I felt her little heart and watched her little face. I felt the air leave my body. I understood a greater clarity. I felt more important seeing her look up at me.
She is 6 now. With two missing teeth. A wonderfully dark sense of humour. I know she is safe and healthy. I put her to bed, and wake her up for school. I kiss her face and her hands and her arms and I tell her she is clever and wonderful.
Being an auntie-momma is hard most of the time. But this human person I get to touch and listen to and watch grow into a bigger human with complex ideas is amazing.
The gratitude I have for my sister is enormous. She created the single greatest part of my life. I will spend forever in gratitude. Forever thankful for this.