Friday, September 26, 2008

When the end comes, I don't think anyone, really, is prepared. Sometimes, it's expected, sometimes, it's not. The end can be so surreal, unwavering, confusing, outrageous.

On Friday, September 26th, my sister, Amy, passed away. She was a mother and a grandmother. She was there when I was born, and I was there when she took her last breath. There are few people in the world that you can say knew you your whole life. Your parents, your siblings. I cannot remember a time when she wasn't there. My earliest memories are of myself and her.

I remember sitting on my grandmother's knee watching two guys laying carpet in our living room. Amy was standing next to me, watching these two men rolling out this deep red shag carpeting. The room looked so big without the furniture. I used to have nightmares about the floor....that under the carpet there were big holes and if you weren't careful, you would fall in these holes and be lost forever. When I would wake up crying, Amy would sing me back to sleep.

So many of my childhood memories are about Amy. And usually, she was protecting me from our older sister, who was mean and vindictive.

I remember Amy walking me to school. She was in the sixth grade when I began kindergarden. She held my hand the whole way.

Of course, we still fought like sisters do. She used to stick straight pins through the skin on her fingertips and chase me through the house. She would flip her eyelids up to make me cry.

But my best memory of her.....we shared a bedroom growing up. I have no idea why my parents bought a full sized bed instead of twin beds, but we always shared a bed. Amy couldn't go to sleep unless she was twirling my hair around her finger. I fell asleep every night lying next to her, her fingers so gentle, twisting my hair, letting it fall, then twisting it again. Every night, we fell asleep, talking quietly so our parents didn't hear us. And always, the twirling...I remember when she first moved into the other bedroom(my oldest sister had moved out).....I couldn't sleep. I would crawl into bed with her so she could twirl my hair.

I can't imagine my life without having her here. I know no life without her here. Once there were four souls who knew me from birth. Now, there are only three. I am the youngest. Will I live to watch those other souls go before me? This hurts so bad, I don't think I can take the rest.

I love you, Amy. And I miss you already.

9/11

I remember where I was. I remember what I was doing. I remember every moment of that horrible day. And each year since, on this day, I follow the same ritual. I take a moment in the morning and remember. And I've found that each year, the emotions are there....but not quite as strong as they were the year before.

Until this year. This morning....thinking about that dreadful day in our history, was different. I know why it was different, but I'm not really sure why....does that make any sense? This year, Joe is in Iraq. And he's going to Afghanistan in January, where we've been fighting since October 2001. A direct link to that fateful day. He's there...fighting for our country, the innocents in their country, and it's directly related to 9/11.

I worry every minute of every hour of every day about him. It's like an obsession. Is he safe? Is he eating ok? Is he sleeping?

If 9/11 never happened, he wouldn't be there. He would be safe.

And so this morning, I cried. I cried for everyone who died that day. I cried for every soldier that's died since that day(4,155 for anyone who's counting). And I cried for all the soldiers that are still over there fighting.

I cried for me....and for Joe. He tells me he's not the same man he was....and that I might not like the man he's become. So. Even though he wasn't in New York on that day...his life has been altered forever by the events that day. And so has mine.

I hope there is an end to this war. I hope there is a future for Joe and I. And I hope that he comes home in one piece, emotionally and physically.

Peace to all.