Yesterday was February 12th. To most people, not a very important day. But yesterday was my sister’s birthday. Sister? some of you may ask. Yes, I have a sister. Or had a sister. She would have turned 30 yesterday. 30! Imagine that. Chelsea died when she was 17, in a car accident with her 2 best friends. I was 13 at the time. Her middle name was Meilee. That’s where we got Emma’s middle name. And so yesterday was a special day in my mind. Emma even wore a dress for the first time (although everyone attributed it to Valentine’s Day because it had hearts all over it) but that was actually because John picked it out (Daddy’s little girl). Emma will never know her namesake aunt; although truth be told, were my sister alive, Emma would have a different middle name (we made a pact not to name our kids after family or friends). But as it is, her middle name is special. She even received a few of Chelsea’s childhood jewelry pieces as baptism gifts including a beautiful little golden cross.
Losing a sister so young means that I can’t relate to female friends anymore who have sisters. I’m actually envious of the fact that they have a sister, even if they aren’t close to her. I just don’t know what it’s like to have that kind of female kinship anymore. Oh sure I have my close girlfriends, and love them dearly. And I have 2 sisters-in-law who are terrific. But I do not know what it’s like to be an adult and have a sister. How would I be different if she were still here? How would she be? How would my brother and parents be? I can only imagine, and even that is hard.