Sunday Snippet: The Weeping Time Edition
It’s almost December 19, and the 10-year anniversary (what a strange word to use in this context) of losing my sister Kate. Wicked cancer stole her from us too soon. PJ and I both still maintain that a third of us is missing, and that is so very true. But this part of December–the first couple of weeks have become a gray time for me since Kate’s passing.
I’m not sure if it’s the anticipation of the anniversary or the starting the holidays without her…again, but I am weepy and sad and wishing desperately that she was here. So many times since December 19, 2014, I’ve thought, okay, now it’s real. Kate is dead. Seeing her just moments after she passed—my precious sister so peaceful and beautiful—was one of those moments obviously. Not having her and her husband come up to the lake for a weekend each year, and seeing her lovely miniature yellow rose bush still blooming in front of our cottage all summer is a reminder that she’s gone. Not spending the last 10 Christmas Eves with her is another. It’s real. My sister is gone from this Earth.
Yet, even after ten years, there are still those moments when I can pretend that none of this ever happened. Kate never got sick, cancer didn’t steal her away. She’ll call me tomorrow morning on her way to work and we’ll chat. Or maybe next time she’s at work, I’ll text her or fly by her office for a quick hug and hello when I go up to the north end. PJ and I can meet her for lunch at Bravo’s next week, where Kate and I will order that wonderful Riesling they have and eat too much bread. She’ll get the chicken and pasta she loves, and I’ll have a chopped salad and probably some more bread. She’ll call me again on her way home from work and bitch about the traffic, and we’ll talk about our days while she goes five miles per hour on the highway.
But the reality remains–Kate’s gone, Even Bravo’s is gone. It’s been 10 years Ten years! I’m older than my older sister ever got a chance to be and everything is changed.
For the first time since Thanksgiving, I didn’t cry yesterday. That’s not good or bad news, particularly, it’s just what it is. It wasn’t that I felt too empty to cry–I didn’t. It wasn’t that I was deliriously happy all day–I wasn’t. And it wasn’t that I didn’t think of Kate–I did. Several times actually. But I was content yesterday, just doing ordinary things–it was a normal pre-December 19, day… and that place in my heart where Kate resides is quiet for now.
After ten years of missing her, am I beginning to come to grips with the reality that my sister is dead? I don’t know, but the quiet in my heart about Kate feels fragile, and I want to protect and nurture this feeling… this peace…
Gratitude for This Week: A fun musical evening with my guys; I wrote words every day last week; the cold is subsiding enough to walk outside halfway comfortably; Christmas lights; we put the canopy on–such fun to snuggle in our cozy bed together.
Stay well, stay safe (Vaccines are a miracle!), choose kindness this week, and most of all, mes amis, stay grateful!
15 Comments
Kimberly Field
Big hugs. This will be the first Christmas since we lost my mom’s younger sister and my aunt. My aunt and I were a lot alike, we were the caretakers of the family. She always made fudge the old fashioned way and only at Christmas time. Even after we left Indy over 30 yrs ago, she would mail us a box of it. This will be the first time we won’t be getting her fudge, she always made it arrive around my birthday too, so I would know she was thinking about me.
Nan
Thanks, Kimberly. So sorry about your aunt–maybe try making the fudge from her recipe in her honor? Hugs, honey.
Kimberly Field
Sadly, she did not share the recipe, she was going to show me, we had planned on her staying with us for a few months this winter.
Glenda M
I think the holidays make us all more aware of the people who have left us and the world. It has to be so much worse when your sister died during the holiday season. HUGS
Nan
Thank you, Glenda. It gets better as the day passes, but yeah, Christmas is so different now.
Melissa
I imagine holidays feel heavy as you balance everyone’s excitement and celebration along with the reminder of such a great loss at the same time. I don’t think there’s an easy time to lose a loved one, but losing a loved one around the holidays seems particularly brutal.
Nan
Melissa, it does get better as we get closer to Christmas–Kate wouldn’t want us brooding. But I do miss her. Hugs.
Doris Lankford
I am so sorry for your loss and I know exactly how you feel. My sister passed away in January of 2012 and I miss her every day too. Take care and cry when you need to. Sending hugs and prayers to you at this difficult time.
Nan
Doris, thank you… only those who’ve lost a sister can know. Hugs back to you, my friend.
Liz Flaherty
Even without an anniversary to remind me in December, my sister’s memory has been heavy on my heart these past days. Blessings to you and Pam as you share your memories.
Nan
I think the current climate in our nation doesn’t help the grayness… Kate would want me to rise above, I think so would Nancy. Blessings right back to you, Lizzie. <3
Roseann McGrath Brooks
The grief doesn’t go away; it just changes forms. Perhaps missing your sister gave you some insight into your character Harper in Made for Mistletoe. Losing someone stinks, but thank goodness for our support systems.
Nan
Perhaps it did color Harper’s grief over losing her husband–loss is hard, and yes, I’m so grateful for friends and family who bring the joy when I can’t find it by myself. Hugs, Roseann!
Janine
I lost one of my sisters, the one I was closest to, a couple of years ago and I know exactly how you’re feeling. No amount of time can ever make it any easier when you miss someone. Hugs…..
Nan
No, time doesn’t ease the first couple of weeks in December… Kate’s loss is just as raw 10 years later as it was on December 19. 2014. Love and hugs, Janine.