Little Sister

Dear Little Sister,

 

Do you remember when we were little girls, and we’d speculate about our future families? We would spend countless moments dreaming about who we’d fall in love with and what our children might look like, sharing our thoughts with one another in confidence. We would lay close together, soft white sheets pulled up over our heads and tied to the posts on the head of the four-poster bed we shared. We called it our Princess Bed. It felt special and secretive and safe; the perfect place to divulge our hopes and dreams to each other. Wide-eyed and full of endless, imaginative possibilities, we would speculate into the night, the soft light of our lamp on our nightstand lighting our round faces and rosy cheeks as we faced towards each other, whispering back-and-forth.

“I’ll marry a man with dark hair, blue eyes, and tan skin like Prince Eric off of Little Mermaid!” you’d say, your eyes twinkling in the lamplight under the raised sheet. “And I’m going to have four little kids-two girls and two boys-just like our family!” I’d reply. “Me too!” you’d chime in, “Four is the perfect number. With two boys and two girls, everyone gets a sister and a brother and someone to play with.” “Just promise me this” I’d say. “Promise me we stay close our whole lives! Promise me we’ll live next to each other, and our kids will be best friends and play with each other all the time.” “Of course!” you’d reply. “That’s what I want too! We’ll go to the park together and live close enough our kids can walk to each other’s houses. And think of all the vacations we’ll go on when we grow up!”

Little Sister, I can’t count how many conversations like this one I remember having with you over the years. Our shared familial dream became solidified, ageless, as we both grew and expounded upon it. You had an actual dream guy! Your very own personalized Prince Eric. You dreamt him up at age 14 and dreamed of him often since. He always looked the same: tall, dark, and handsome like you pictured as a little girl. You would tell me about these dreams and say “I wonder what I would do if I saw him in real life. I wonder if there’s someone out there who really looks like him. What if this dream guy really exists?” We’d laugh and talk about the possibilities.

But of all the future scenarios we could have imagined, none would come close to the reality of what the future held. We couldn’t have preconceived the reality of your mortal struggle: your mental battles; the fight for survival that you ultimately lost; the demons that robbed you of your dreams and broke my heart in two. I cry for the dark-haired, brown-eyed Little Sister who never got to see her dreams fulfilled. I cry for the Big Sister whose tender heart was so full of hopes for family ties that could never be made, aspirations that could never be met, because of premature, tragic loss.

Yet if I could talk to that younger version of me, of us, I would say that not all is lost: not all hope is gone. As I watch my oldest daughter hold my newborn baby girl, my heart swells with so many emotions. Tears stream down my cheeks as I witness a loving connection rise between my two daughters. As I watch a new pair of sisters be born. My little girls. I cry tears of remembrance as I think of our connection, as I hear my oldest daughter, Big Sister whisper “I love you” in those sweet miniature ears of her new Little Sister. I reflect on all the memories as I look to the future. Perhaps I will get to watch these new sisters dream as we did. Perhaps I will be blessed to hold their children-cousins-my grandchildren-as they talk and laugh as we used to.

Or perhaps their dreams will look much different than ours did. One thing is for sure: life can throw some crazy curve balls at what we think our futures might hold. But among whatever crazy surprises my life may bring, I am so grateful to know sisterly love. You have gifted that to me, Little Sister. And that love does not end! It never will. It is more timeless and ageless than our hopes and dreams ever were. It’s bigger than those failed dreams. And it lives on.

It lives on as I tell my two daughters all about you: our sister bond, the crazy things we did, all the memories. It lives on as I watch my two daughters develop their own sisterly bond. As I love them like I love you. It lives on through the sisterly relationships I gain with friends and family members as our family grows. And I pray that you know, without a shadow of a doubt Little Sister, that you are forever a part of this sister bond magic; this eternal love that continues to give, although you cannot be here physically.

But it truly does continue to give as I feel you here in spirit.  I hear you laugh beside me when my older daughter says something hilarious. She reminds me of your wit. I see you in the deep, dark eyes and dark hair of my baby girl. You live on, Little Sister.

In my heart.

In memories,

In my posterity.

Forever and always.

With All My Love,

Big Sister