I originally wrote this May 14, 2015. My sister died just over 7 months later on December 30th. I was able to see her before she died and tell her I loved her.
The value of her life seems minimal. How many would really miss her when she’s gone? The prognosis isn’t at all good. Dismal, really.
Such a contrast between us. My sister and me.
I’ve always felt her jealousy. And I’ve always felt my mom’s affection against me and toward her. I’m not ‘special’ like my sister. I’m not needy like my sister.
And now she lays, very sick, in a hospital bed. And I haven’t gone to see her. I know it’s over a thousand miles, but still. If it were my children or grandchildren I would be there. Or my parents. But my sister, well, we have this history. And our history, evolving as it has, has erased most of any sibling love we may have had at one time in our lives.
So here I sit, contemplating her life and its value. She didn’t ask to have her brain not work properly. She didn’t ask to be schizophrenic. She didn’t plan her life to live in a group home, never learning to drive, working a little here and there, with no goals, no responsibilities, no others to lavish her love and attention on. She didn’t ask for what she ended up with.
But by the same token, I didn’t ask to be smart and beautiful either. I didn’t ask to have children I love and grandchildren I adore. I didn’t ask for these things. But that’s what God chose to give me.
I have so much, and she has so little.
Whose life has more value? Are we the same?
If we truly believe that God is the one who forms us and determines our destinies, and loves us equally, then I think we have to agree that, yes, we are the same. Our value is the same.
I would like to say that if I were still living in Michigan, close to where she is, that I’d be at the hospital on a regular basis to show her I love her. But I don’t know if that’s true. Our history infringes on my personal space, reminding me of our past. I’d like to tell myself that I’d be there for her, maybe to make me feel better. But she’s the one who isn’t feeling well. She’s the one who may be dying.
What is our life? A vapor. What is eternity? Forever.
Our value, then, must come from our forevers, not our heres.
My sister’s value comes from her humanness, and shouldn’t be affected by our history.
Did I mention her birthday is tomorrow?
Happy birthday, sister.
