One Year Ago

It was one year ago today that my sister left this world.  I didn’t actually find out until the next day, but today is the day she went to be with Jesus.  This is one anniversary I’d rather not have to remember but something like this cannot, and should not, be forgotten.

I still remember the instant gut wrenching sorrow when my mom spoke those words, “Kerri passed away last night.”  How could this be?

I remember the tears just wouldn’t stop coming.  After somehow managing to call my husband and call into work I just laid on the couch and cried.  The pain was so great, I started reciting the 23rd Psalm over and over again, a passage I had memorized as a child.  Looking back, it was truly amazing to experience the power of God’s Word.  How saying those words so quickly calmed my mind and my heart to a more manageable level. 

I loved my sister so much.  She was 9 years older than I was, so when we were growing up, she was my little mother.  I remember her nickname for me was “Bunk.”  As a toddler and as a young child I LOVED that I was her “Bunk.”  I knew I was so special to her as she was to me.  Even today when I look through all the pictures of us as children it was amazing to me how many pictures of our family showed me sitting with Kerri.  Poor Kelly, my middle sister, forced to be the loner of the children.  

She moved out of the house when I was in 2nd grade and I remember that moment vividly.  I was standing at my bedroom window watching her pack up her car and drive away.  I was so sad and didn’t understand why she had to go.  That was the first time I lost my sister.

As we grew older, our relationship changed, mostly because she was no longer around due to a falling out she had with my parents, but partly because I grew up myself and began to see the truth behind why she moved away.  I lost some of my naivete as I realized that she wasn’t exactly the saint I thought she was in my child-like experience…no one is.  Other people have told me that they remember the day when they realized their parents weren’t perfect and/or weren’t always right.  I don’t remember that day but I do remember the day I realized that about my sister, Kerri.

Her relationship with my parents and our family was repaired eventually, although she never moved back home for more than a few months.  For many years, I was still closer to her than she was with anyone else in my family.   She did several things as we matured that made me realize that she never lost the feeling that we had a special bond.  For instance, when she was going through a really tough time with her husband, it was me she called in the middle of the night crying.  In some ways, once we reached that point of maturity, I felt like roles had switched and that I had become the big sister.  She needed me and confided in me.

Obviously no person or relationship is perfect, but on this hard day, I try and remember the good times we had.  I will never forget the bond we shared in childhood.  I know that no matter how time had changed things, nothing could take that away from me.  I wait patiently for the day when I will see her again and at that time, there will be no strains or imperfections, only joy and love.

I look forward to that day…