Friday was my sister’s birthday… I thought about her a lot all day, actually, I think about her a lot in the month of May. I thought about my brothers and my younger sister. I wondered if they were thinking about her as well. Throughout the day, I called my family, we talked about random things, I left them goofy messages, but not once did we mention Rose. There was no need to. Secretly, I think we all knew what we were missing for the day.
Rose would have turned the dreaded three-zero this year. Where I would have made (and probably will make) a dramatic entrance into the thirties – mini-skirt, high heels, and all – Rose would have made her usual regal arrival. Always the lady, I imagined her celebrating this new era of life with very close friends and family, wearing a stunning new suit perfectly complemented with a majestic hat. If I had to, I would guess that she would dedicate a song to God in church on Sunday….
Sadly, I have to confess that my thoughts of Rose are becoming indefinable. I am starting to forget. I’m forgetting what her voice sounds like. Outside of a picture, I have difficulty conjuring up her features in my head. I cannot remember what some of her favorite things were. I couldn’t think of the perfect gift to give her for her thirtieth birthday – something to do with sewing, maybe an interesting recipe book, or perhaps an expensive pediatric nursing equipment. What would she really want? Memories are all I have left of my once closest friend, and they too are slowly fading away.
I guess that is why I’m writing now. I am attempting to leave myself memory clues and triggers. A year from now, when I am turning thirty, I want to vividly remember my sister. I want to make time for close friends and family. I want to thank and honor God for the gift of life. And even though I may sport my mini-skirt, I want to remember that I am a lady and carry myself like a queen.