Happy Birthday

Dear Deb ~

When you were born, Dad tried to get my elementary school principal to let me stay home and fill in for Mom. I was heart broken that she wouldn't approve such a thing. At the tender age of eleven, I really wanted to help out and was so proud that Dad thought I could handle household responsibilities.

I loved wheeling you around in your stroller and helping feed and dress you. You were a wonderful, life sized doll! It was fun watching you grow up, and for the next seven or eight years, we had a grand time. But too soon the fun and our connection ended. You were mainstream family; I, as a high school senior, was on my way out.

When I left for college, you were in third grade - a mere sprout but so cute with your blond hair and light blue eyes. When I was married, you were there, a willowy pre-teen. Somehow you managed to conquer junior high and high school on your own. I was so wrapped up in first babies I hardly remember your struggles and victories as you became a young woman. I was minimally aware of your college years. We were losing touch.

Then you were in med school, and somehow, thankfully, we reconnected. You used to call me - remember the time we talked all night long until well into daylight? How difficult things were for you, trying so hard to do the impossible with little support able to come from family. Yet amazingly, you did it! What an accomplishment ~ Bravo.

You were then when Michael died, helping, hugging, caring, crying, meeting us at the airport, helping us navigate the confusion. You were there for my first bout of cancer, so confident, so capable. Have the tables turned? Are you now my older sister and I the baby needing help? I am so thankful you are in my life.

Ah, but this year, you outdid yourself. There is nothing easy about being there when your Father is dying. What would we have done without your expertise, your calm and persistent interaction with the doctors and nurses, your translation of medical lingo, your common sense, your knowledge of outcomes and your enabling the best care possible, taking on yourself the burden both physically and monetarily. What a relief knowing that you were there doing what I could not.

If I have not told you how much you mean to me, I will tell you now. You are the sun that shines in the midst of dark clouds. You are the pillar of strength when the hurricane winds are tossing my world askew. You are the gentleness when disease irritates and pains. You bring words of hope when all looks hopeless.

It is a joy to spend time with you, to laugh together, to shop! I love to hear about your dreams, your hopes. Each sister of mine is unique, each has much to offer. But you are the glue that connects us all.

Thank you for the sacrifices you made to be there with Dad. Thank you for being willing to mop up the floor when his illness caused accidents. Thank you for sitting with him for hours while he slept in his drug induced calm. Thank you for chasing down doctors and for hanging on to Dad to steady him as he tried to walk. Thank you for being there even though you fully knew and understood what was going on, even though it was hard to watch the deterioration unfold. Thank you for making sure Mom was able to be with him but not stressed out by what was happening.

If anyone deserves a grand and glorious birthday this year, it is you. I hope you celebrate in fabulous style and that many of your dreams come true in the upcoming year. May you be blessed and unstressed. Most of all, may you know how much we appreciate you and love you and are grateful that you are you.

Happy Birthday, dear "little" sister.

Hugs and kisses, Epper.