From the water's depth, I see a hand. It is hers. I have been on a wooden dock with my sister; she is 9, I am 5 and I have fallen into a lake that is over my head. I see her hand still, coming down through the blue and green. She pulls me up back onto the deck. That is all I recall . She saved me, my sister.
It is 60 years later and I am in a hospital room with my sister who hasn't spoken to me in four years. She reads my e-mails but won't reply. She knows I have called but won't call back. But here we are; I am holding her hand and won't let go as she tells me of her stay in the hospital, what she is afraid of and how she wants to go home. She will not go home. She has three months to live and will be here until the end. As I leave the room, I tell her the truth: "I love you." She replies the same and on the day she passes, I say the same into a telephone held to her ear. And I say this " I will see you on the other side."
Months later, I am at the monastery, attending a writing seminar. Notebooks are provided, I pick a marbled one that has blue in the background because that was my sister's favorite color. Sometime in the sharing time of the group, I tell how raw the death of my sister is. After the session, a young woman from Florida asks if she could pray with me in the church. I agreed and she prayed a beautiful prayer and left. I began to to tell the Lord of my regret for all the years lost when we weren't communing. Then , I heard this."Those years will be given back to you."
I don't know what that means but it was so unexpected and inscrutable that I believe the words to be true.They comfort as does writing about this part of my life, my life with my dear, missed sister which will continue in another place.
"We journey through treasures every day of our lives, they are on loan so that we might learn to trust and love the Lender."
No comments:
Post a Comment