Because of You

Dear Anne,

            Tomorrow I turn 57 and, as always, I’m thinking of you. 

            I’ve lived longer than you already.  During this past year, I would occasionally count off the months to compare.  You made it just past three months into your 56^th year.  Each extra month I get seems like a bonus.  Remembering how your life was cut short, I remember to cherish my life.  My way of making the most of my life is to make it meaningful, be receptive to holy nudges.  I don’t know that I’ve ever believed I was “captain of my own destiny”; rather, more and more I sense that the truest way to live is to cooperate with the Divine Providence.

            Because of what you left me, I have two beautiful flutes and weekly lessons that spur me on.  It’s hard to imagine my life before all this music.  Thank you.

            Because of what you left me, I have a very comfortable bed, new kitchen appliances, and no debt.  Thank you.

            Because of what you left me, I was able to give generously to my children, my church, and ovarian cancer research.  Thank you.

            And because of what you gave me through our adult years, I have happy memories.  Yes, I know that most of those were phone conversations when we went months and even years without seeing each other.  Those phone greetings still make me smile and bring a tear.  You would say, “Janis!!”  and I would say, “Anne!!”

            But I also remember, in particular, our visit to Whidbey Island in July 2007.  And my visit to you in North Carolina in March 2008.  And our family reunion in Kentucky in May 2008.  And the weekend with you in Seattle at the ovarian cancer research symposium in September 2008.  Those times are precious beyond words.

            And, of course, I remember the difficult privilege of spending the last two months of your life with you.  We didn’t talk much because you couldn’t.  I trust you felt my love in the long silences, in how I would stretch your feet, help you brush your teeth, hold your hand, and advocate for better care for you.  Because you needed me, I could give the gift of presence.

            So tomorrow I enter an age you never saw.  Remembering you and because of Jesus, I will give it all I have.  I will remember your words—“don’t wait”—and live into each day to its fullest. 

            I am glad we are sisters.

                                                                        Love,

                                                                        Janis