I've been thinking about sisters all day. My sisters are so important and I don't think I tell them often enough how much they matter to me.
We lost our mom when we were 25, 24, and 16. It was the most horrible thing our family has ever gone through. I look at my own daughter, turning 16 soon, and I don't know how my youngest sister made it through that time without her mom. I hope I was there for her. But my fear is that I was off, living my life with my new husband.
We all survived. It's been hard. We don't have an older female to ask some of those questions that women need to ask each other. Things about childbirth. Things about babies. Things about teens. Things about "the change".
We ask each other these things.
But none of us is an expert in older womanhood. So we muddle along, trying to reason out a lot of it. Most of the time we do okay, but sometimes we just miss our mom.
Sisters don't need words. They have perfected a language of snarls and smiles and frowns and winks - expressions of shocked surprise and incredulity and disbelief. Sniffs and snorts and gasps and sighs - that can undermine any tale you're telling. ~Pam Brown
I look at the picture above and I know what my sisters are thinking. My middle sister is thinking "Could you please take the picture now? I'm getting tired of standing here trying to smile naturally," and my youngest sister is thinking "Take the d#%$ picture NOW."
We have such a shared history. No one knows our stories like our sisters. No one else will remember Mom the way we do. And no one else will grieve for her like we do.
I love my sisters.