For my 45th year
I turned 45.
Five more years until I'm 50.
I'm now officially too old for the Korean adoption program. Thank goodness Little Brother made it home in time.
It was a nice day.
It was a normal day.
My mom calls.
My sister has died.
The world grinds to a halt.
The first day of my 45th year begins with a loss so cutting that I can't breathe.
I can't really write about this now. It's all still too painful. When I think of my sister's death, I feel like I'm underwater in a murky tank, unable to figure out which way is up or down. She was 42. How is this possible?
Our past few weeks have been a swirl of family. Grief. Love.
We flew to the west coast where all of my family resides. The boys have been very moody. Little Brother is clingy and cries all the time. Perhaps they have tuned into my grief?
Little Brother has been home almost 8 weeks. The flight was a rehash of that awful trip home from Korea. Thank goodness it was only 3 hours long.
Home. Good to be together with my parents and baby sister. The days were long as we waited for test results. We wanted answers. We had long conversations that ended with silence and tears. We held hands.
We made plans to celebrate her life. Hard to celebrate a life ended too soon. We did it for her kids. And it was sort of healing for us too, I guess. It gave me something to focus on.
Back home now. Little Brother ecstatic to return. I think he thought we had left all this behind. That each plane trip means another loss. My heart breaks for him.
I forget for a minute or two. I get busy scrubbing the bathroom and then remember she's not here anymore. I can't wrap my head around this.
In the dark hours after the kids are asleep, I lie awake.
Where has time gone?
Did she know I loved her?
I miss her.