Threading the Needles Because I Can't See...My Sissy...Melissa

Sometimes in life we are blessed to have a great friend; a soul mate, someone who knows you better than perhaps you know yourself. But sometimes in life we are also blessed to have a great sibling as well; a sister, someone who perhaps shared the same memories as you and knows who you were from the beginning. I am blessed to have both in my sister Melissa . Most people call her "Moe", but I have always, always called her Melissa. Ever since I could take her in my arms and stroke her beautiful little freckled self, I have been in love. I have loved her in the good times and protected her in the bad. I have changed her diapers, helped potty train her, and bought her school clothes. I have dressed her in party dresses, bought her wedding dress, and when she was nine months pregnant; let her use my clothes as maternity clothes. Heck, I even went into the delivery room with her when her two beautiful children came popping into this world. She seemed to always have been my baby girl as well as our mother's. Mom worked long and hard to support us and I never ever hated the imposed responsibility of taking care of this young child. She literally was my life at times. And when the "Boogie Man" came into our lives and times were tough and times were scary, it was I who covered her eyes and hid her until it was safe enough for her to see the light once again. It wasn't  an easy task. It wasn't without it's hardships. Loving her sometimes was my only purpose- my reason to live.

And as with many sisterhoods, we grew into adults and have faced many challenges. Our paths have always been smooth and we have never been so angry with one another that we couldn't work it out. I was jealous of her when my son chose to live with her. Mad when he threw into my face that she was a better Mother figure than I. But time makes you see facts more clearly and I came to know that she was only protecting a child, my child, from the deep seeded demons that haunted him until his self inflicted death. Together we found my child, dead on an old dirt road, blood everywhere, gun in his hand. It was at that point that point in our lives that somewhere, somehow, the tables had turned, and she was no longer the baby sister, but she had taken on the role as big sister and I, the baby. My reality had ceased to exist anymore, and because she loved my children as her own, she also grieved him as her own. It gave us an unlikely bond, but one we both knew existed none the less. And so we had faced this awful death together, my sister and I, visiting and revisiting that day until we both were able to face the world without him and find some sort of "peace" about it.

Melissa has always been the wiser one. Always been the one who could hold her own in any situation. She has been the peacemaker in a family that is as dysfunctional as the sky turns gray. She is the one I turn to for advice when I am confused, and she is the one I turn to when I am so horribly lost that I cannot find my way. So it came as no surprise that she was there at my side during this illness, everyday organizing my children; finding rides, getting food, giving money, and playing Mommy to them. She was our rock. Our go to person to solve these problems that I could no longer lift my head enough to solve.

She came to the hospital to visit me in those first unknown days and it was the first time in my life that I saw "scared" in my sister. I looked into her eyes and I knew. I knew that she knew that I was in deep crap here and it was about to hit the fan. I could feel it in her eyes as she stared, studied, and questioned. I could feel it when she spoke of my children and how they were. But mostly I could see that she saw that this bond that we shared so deeply could be severed, and it was something that neither of us had ever entertained.

I called her a lot in that week I lay on the bed at home, in the bedroom, or in the chair. I called her late at night and whispered so that my children couldn't hear through tears of fear and despair, how frightened I was to die. I knew God had this, but somehow His will did not always work out to be my will, and that scared the living hell out of me- literally. I reflected with her my loves, my life, my regrets. I asked her to take care of Tim and my babies and grandbabies. I shared what I wanted for them and their lives. And I told her how much I loved her and how thankful I was that she was and had always been my best friend.

She was there when my head hurt so bad I couldn't see and she was there when I needed someone to take me potty. She was there to help me get dressed, buy me clothes, and help me have the courage to go under the knife. But mostly she was there to love me. To help me through the hardest battle I have yet to face. She was there as my sister, but mostly she was there as my friend and for that, I will always love her.