AT LEAST ONCE A DAY

At least once a day I pick up the phone and start to dial her number, anxious to tell her something so important it can’t wait. And then I remember: There will be no one at the end of the phone. As a matter of fact, the phone number is no longer in existence. It is my sister, Sharon, and she died last year after just a few month battle with cancer. I feel so guilty for me living and her dying! I am nowhere near the person she was and she always gave me (and everyone else) such great advice. Her best advice to me: Let it just roll off your shoulders. Don’t let it get to you. Don’t let the small-minded people get to you.

I am a 12 and 14 year cancer survivor and I still don’t know why I am alive and she is dead. I feel so guilty. She was a good person and I don’t feel I am anywhere near as good. She didn’t have the best life (until she met her husband and got married, that is). She had some really rocky periods (all the kids in our family did but she had at least one particularly bad experience that would have leveled a lesser person). We knew about it and never spoke about it. How awful that she went through that and never talked about it. But that was our family. If you didn’t talk about it, it didn’t exist and couldn’t hurt you. HA!

I would give my life to have her back. I miss her so much. If love could have saved her, she would still be alive.  I think she saved me with her love.