Sister, Sister

Today is my sister's Anniversary.

It is the anniversary of her addition to the family my parents had begun with the adoption of my older brother, Tom.

It never fails to boggle my mind when I consider how unlikely it is that we all found each other.

But then again, God things are always mind boggling.

Some of the pictures in this post are of my homecoming day but you can see how very special our family felt about the day we each came home. 

The hand gently holding my leg and the arms wrapped around me as she held me in her lap have been there as

long as I can remember.

She is the fric to my frac and the peanut butter to my jelly.

I know she is always with me. I know her hand is always there and her arms are always wrapped around me.

 

I know this because we have a bond that transcends flesh and blood, DNA and genetics.

It is a bond that my parents built with purpose

and nurtured carefully.  It is a bond the four

Hargrove brats children have always known.

You mess with one of us, you better be ready to

deal with all four of us.

It has always been that way and it will never change.

We were chosen for each other by God.

Admittedly, we didn't always appreciate each

other.  I am sure my younger brother and I

were occasionally irritating but he and I have

forgiven the frequent abuse handed down by

the older two. 

Smile.

Oh, the stories we can tell.

Oh, the trouble we got into.

Oh the love we have always known.

Just sayin'.............

She Loved Knowing That He Loved Her

When I called to wish him a happy birthday,
he reminded me that this would be the first
New Year's Eve in over 60 years that he didn't
have a sweet heart to kiss.

She often seemed impatient
when he was silly
or sentimental
but she loved knowing
that he loved her.

Those private smiles they shared at sentimental
moments are among the most beautiful things
I have ever seen.

It was more than difficult to say
good bye
to him that night
and even though I tried to stay busy
all I could think about was
how I was about to began a
new year
without a mother.

As New Year's Eve wound down
the sorrow rose higher and higher in my throat.

And I grew quieter.

When my husband mentioned running up to the
neighbors for the last few moments of 2010
I shook my head and said that I was feeling
emotional.

(I can write about my grief but sharing it in
person is not something I have ever done easily.)

The sorrow took over and I was incapable of
speaking at all.  Physically incapable of
explaining my sorrow for my father and for
myself.

There are times when I don't dare open my
mouth to give voice to my grief because
I am afraid that I will lose all control and
give way to heaving sobs.

There are times when I am impatient with
the rest of the world because it does not
remember that each 'first' is a painful
reminder of what I no longer have.

Logical? No.
But then again, I have never promised
to be logical.

The old year died and a new one was born.

And I felt empty.