Grief. We all handle it differently. I’ve always been one to mask it with distraction and the occasional joke. I don’t always want to tell people that I’m hurting inside.
Today is my sister’s birthday. She would be 27 this year. I always have a tough time on this day because of how much I miss her. She was taken away just two months before her second birthday, I had just turned four. We were close. I could always make her laugh and jumped at any opportunity to help my mom with feeding her or anything else she needed. I could help her when she had her seizures, I could change her feeding tube. I watched every medical show I could, hoping one day they would cover what she had. Hoping I could learn more and fix her. I knew she suffered and I wanted to take her pain away.
She was a beautiful baby. Her hair was a pretty strawberry blonde shade with sweet little curls. Her eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue, comparable to my daughter’s eyes. Her smile could light up any room, as you can see above.
After she died I saw a therapist for many years. I had night terrors, anxiety that God would take my baby brother away too, and afraid that my mom would never come back from the hospital. I wrote stories about my sister and the night she went to heaven. I grieved the only way a four year old knew how to.
Twenty-five years later I still struggle. I keep it quiet and avoid the topic. I visit her gravesite and bring flowers or something small and fun. I enjoy our small “talks” that we have where I update her with all the things I’m up to. I know that’s she proud and I am thankful that she’s there to talk to.
But last night at dinner I was reminded of her. I saw the sweetest little baby girl that reminded me so much of Courtney. Same piercing eyes, beautiful smile, chunky legs and pretty blonde hair. She was happy and making sweet faces at me. At that moment I was reminded of how much I miss my sister, but how happy I am to know she’s not suffering anymore. I needed that reminder. I often feel selfish for wishing she was still here. But I learned that she’s not gone. She’s always near, in every bright eyed baby girl that I see. She’s around when I feel like I can’t go on with my life. She’s saved me so many times and continues to push me down the right path.
I’m thankful for that little baby. I’m thankful that I ended up at that table with my boyfriend. He kept me just distracted enough all weekend. I’m thankful that he made sure I was fine today and I’m happy it took me until writing this to cry it all out.