I wish I could give my sister a kidney. I wish I could hold her and hold her until her three kids and my three kids are grown and happy and well. I wish she needed something from me that I could give. Part of my liver, or some of my skin.
I wish I could take from her. I wish I could take her pain and her hurt, her confusion and her frustration. I wish I could take it all and beat it and force it away where it could never escape.
Mary was always the good one. The quiet one, the shy one. She cried when she went to kindergarten, but was proud to show off her tube of “lipstick.” Her teachers all asked, Are you sure you’re Jane’s sister? Jane’s so . . . so loud.
Mary still plays the piano; no one has to force her to practice. I gave it up as soon as my parents stopped paying for lessons. Mary could pretend she was Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty. I always had to be Snow White, and back then that made me mad. Now her blonde hair is much darker, and it’s our daughters who argue over who gets to be Ariel and who has to be the Mean Queen.
She was the seashell when I was the wasp. When we started to grow up, she wrote me letters telling me to come back to the family, come back to church, start saying my prayers, and shape up. She told me she loved me. I thought she meant it even if I didn’t come back.
Now we’re mostly grown up. I didn’t know this before, but I was hoping we would have quite a bit more time to keep growing up. Time to learn to cook (but not to sew) and to learn patience and to figure out how to be good women, good daughters, good mothers, good sisters.
Now it’s too late and we have to grow up. I don’t want to. I don’t want my sister to have to grow up all the way. It’s not fair. That cracks me up when I tell Sally or Susan, Sorry, life’s not fair. I laugh. Haha. Life’s not fair, you don’t get another sucker or get to watch a movie or get to stay up till midnight. LIFE’S NOT FAIR.
It’s much worse to realize, when you should be grown up, that, guess what? It really, really isn’t fair.
If I could make it fair or nice or fun or happy, I would, even if I had to give her a kidney. In fact, if a kidney would make it better, I’d get the knife (and the laughing gas) myself.
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Life truly isn’t fair… I don’t know the full story on your sister, but I know I’d give my sisters a kidney if needed, too. Hoping she’s ok, and that you guys don’t have to grow up TOO much…
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I am so sorry that your sister is sick. I don’t even know what to say. You both will be in my prayers.
Toni
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I love your sister and I love you. Praying for you both.
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Oh, what a heartwarming and sad post all at the same time. I will be praying for you and your sister. Miracles happen.
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Life really isn’t fair, but sisters can be God-sent angels to help us through those rough inevitable unfair times. You are such a great sister–I’m sure your sister finds a lot of strength and courage in your support. I have not been a good sister in a lot of ways, and I sincerely regret that. I’ve tried and tried to make up for my bad sistering moments, but it takes a lifetime, I suppose. I just hope that I’ve learned my lesson and that I’ll be a better sister and friend than I have been in the past.
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I wish your family peace and comfort right now. I am so sorry to hear about your sister. When I read about all of the things that could happen to me or my family, such as illnesses or accidents, it makes me very nervous and anxious…like I don’t want to ever leave the house or yell at my husband or ignore a phone call from my sister or brother. But I always do. Again, I hope and pray that everything goes well.
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Love to you. Such awful things we grown ups deal with. My seven year old is so unhappy he is seven. He is the 3rd child, and spends too much time watching what 11 and 9 year-olds can do, never feeling adequate. If only he could understand how really hard being grown up is. Reality comes.
In my life, I know my family is connected eternally. I pray you have that knowledge in your heart as well.
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I am so sorry for whatever is going on with your sister. What a beautiful post. Sending lots of love and prayers.
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I am so sorry to hear about your sister. You are added to my prayer list.
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Thanks to everyone for your kind thoughts to me and my sister. It’s a touchy situation, and I didn’t want to say anything I shouldn’t or be indiscreet, but I had to express myself. There’s so little else I can do, and that’s the most frustrating thing of all.
Knowing that someone you love is hurting, and not being able to fix it. Not being able to do anything at all, except for loving and “being there” for them. And maybe hating their pain.
I looked up the 5 stages of grief. Apparently you don’t necessarily go through all of them and/or don’t experience them in this order, but here they are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.
I haven’t experienced or seen real grief (except for the miscarriage, which really wasn’t as bad as this, probably because I was able to come to acceptance relatively quickly) since my Aunt Jodi died when I was 11, and though that hurt, how much grief can an 11-year-old really feel about someone who isn’t part of their daily lives?
Mary and I loved Aunt Jodi. She painted our nails and let us sleep on her waterbed with her and helped us ride her pony Star. Aunt Jodi died of kidney failure at 21 even after two transplants, so maybe that’s why I think of wanting to give a kidney. But a kidney wouldn’t help my sister’s hurt. I wish it would.
Your prayers and love do help. Thank you.
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Mom says that after Jodi died I drew picture after picture of her to help with my mourning process. Now when I need to process things like that I write and write in my journal and talk and talk to people.
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Hey Shannon,
Im sorry for the anguish this is causing you. You sound very affected by whatever is happening and I know that I would feel the same way! I hope your sister is ok!
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