My Last Goodbye

A year ago today was the last time my sister and I had a conversation. I had called during work to check on her at the hospital. She had spent so much time in the sanitary rooms with thin pillows and the noise of nurses walking up and down the halls that I never really worried about her. She always seemed to come out on top. Sent home with tubes hanging out of her, yet smiling and never asking for help.
I never thought that this would be the last "Goodbye" followed by "I love you" I would say to my best friend. Even though she told me the doctor had come in and said she didn't have much time... None of us believed it. Not even her. We just knew that God was going to heal her and make her whole. That we would spend Easter at her house coloring and hunting eggs. Me falling asleep on her couch while I let everyone else worry about the boys.
The next time I would see her she would be unable to speak, but her life filled the room.
Of course it didn't happen the way I had planned, but when does it ever happen that way?
So as I sit here replaying her voicemail and reading her texts I think about how many times I took my days with her for granted. She was my light and strength. Come to find out she was the rock in our family. The one who took care of us all, but sadness isn't the only thing I feel. I feel love and peace knowing she is better off. No more tubes and no more thin pillows.

(This was one of her favorite Pink Floyd songs)...
So as I prepare for the anniversary of her death, I think about the good times and remember her voice. A voice I pray I never forget.

I Miss the Days of Poop on the Brown Carpet

Tonight my wife made the statement "When did life get so complicated?". Her comment was ordained (or at least I will tell myself that). Moments before I had been taking a hard look at life and the events that come crashing in to take away the hope for a better tomorrow. All of the stress brought me to a moment of nostalgia

Let's have a flashback 15 minutes before her words fell from her mouth...
I was in the shower thinking back to my childhood. Trying to remember my earliest memory. That feeling of happiness and not a care in the world. When my parents were perfect and my brother was still my best friend.

One of the first memories  I have is of running to the bathroom screaming for my brother to get out. The fear and the pressure building up as I knew soon I would make my mother regret me being potty trained. As I pounded my little fist on the door I knew my efforts were in vain. I felt the weight I had been holding in fall to the ground. The relief and wait was over, but soon the screams would follow. I looked down to see my "business" on the brown carpet. The laughter of my brother and the screams of my twin. My mother wanting to be mad, but laughing as she told me to get into the bathroom so she could clean me up. Sadly the memory ends there, but I would like to think my brother had to pick up the mess since it was his fault for not letting me in. I feel it would have been justice, but so many times in life there isn't justice and it all just ends up on the brown carpet.

I know an odd story to share, but the truth is... I miss those days. I miss my family being all that I needed. To share a room with my brother and watch him make me a He-Man chest plate and allow me to ride on his back like he was Battlecat. To come running home from Sunday night church and watch the Sunday night Disney movie (except Mr.Boogedy. I was scared of the dark and he was one scary looking man). To fall asleep on my older sister's shoulder while going to my Grandmother's and being beat up by my twin sister while she wore huge thick glasses. Yet as time went on life got more complicated.

My older sister was diagnosed with colon cancer at 13, my brother went off to college and our relationship was never the same and my twin was cooler than me in high school, but I thought I was too cool to be her friend.
But through it all my families love stayed the same. My family stayed strong when all of life seemed to fall apart. And no matter how complicated life got...we were still a family.

We were a family when I pooped on the brown carpet and we are going to still be family when life's tragedies pulls us under.

I just pray I can show that same family love to my boys. Even when Ri pees on my manpurse.

Death of the Family

Villains

This artwork caught my attention. Real life villains with the costumes of comic book villains. Yet as I looked closely I noticed some of the villains really aren't villains (to me)... But in my life a lot of people I view as villains are not villains to my wife. She actually loves some of the people I truly want to hate.
And as a follower of Christ... Should I really view anyone as a villain? Love all....Forgive all....Maybe one day I will get it.. Till then I will silently fight them in my mind to stop their evil from spreading.

Is It Worth the Fight?

This is just a thought and I am sure that it will never grow to be more than just a thought, but lately I have a pull leading me away from traditional church.
But here is my crazy thought... What if we stopped using a church house and used a house? What if I opened my doors for a church? What if we used the money that is collected every Sunday for the naked, widow, and orphan and not the electric and water bill?
Would that make a difference?

A Time to Mourn... A Time to Wait

Over the past 7 months I have had plenty of time to mourn the death of my sister. I have had time to come to terms with the fact I can't call and ask her a stupid question. I cannot send my oldest to sit with her in church when I need to deal with the youngest. Nor can I pass the youngest one to fall asleep in her arms while tending to an emergency on Lego Batman during the worship service.

It seems like I would have had time to realize the void that has been created. To notice that things will never be the same, but to live with it and praise God for the life she had lived. To embrace life to the fullest and to shed a tear of joy for knowing that someday I will see her again.

I have yet to reach the point of mourning. To find that spot where brokenness and healing meet, fall in love, have sex, and give birth to joy. To stand before the masses and announce the joy I have in the fact that she is with her Savior. She is whole. She has no more pain.... If I were to say those things now it would be as empty as her spot in the pew in front of me. Somewhere deep in my heart I know all of those things are true. I just wish they were tangible.

So where do I begin? Where do I find this healing that so many have told me about? I have searched for it in prayer. I have begged for it in song. I have listened to the stories of others who have faced the same tragic end. Yet it hasn't stuck.

Please don't get me wrong. I know there is healing and I know my Savior has made her whole. I also believe that He can make me whole again, but it hasn't happened yet... Why??? I am starting to realize it is not something I can force. I have to wait. I have to trust. I have to learn to believe.

I watch her daughter thrive and keep pushing. I sit back and watch in jealousy and in shame. Jealous because she has taken the death of her mother and turned it into something beautiful. Shame cause I have only lost my sister. She has lost her mother.

So I take a deep breath and keep going. I don't hide my tears, but I will not fight healing. I will allow my brokenness to meet someone else and fall in love. I will allow mourning to break through and I will not deny Christ the glory in her life. She would kick my butt if I stayed on this path.

Time to Return

I think it is time to bring this blog back.