My Regrets

  

My big sister has been gone 1 year and 3 months now.

Amanda's name means "worthy of love."  Why, oh why, didn't I treasure her and believe that she was also worthy of my time?

 

                                           Amanda and Abby

I think about her daily.  My sister loved her people passionately.  I would joke that, under the weight of her motherly nature, she loved me too much.  When I remember how fiercely she loved, how thoughtfully she served, and how tirelessly she fought a mountain of health problems and cancer, I carry the burden of regret.  Listen closely now.  Get out of your comfort zone.  Cast aside the safety of self-preservation and your illusion of control.  Run towards freedom, vulnerability, being others-focused, and resting in JESUS.  Follow His lead.

When I think back to where I was during my sister's journey through the valley of the shadow of death, I instantly want to make excuses for myself.  I had a baby, was working beyond full-time in a very stressful business, and my marriage was struggling.  We moved and switched churches after a painful split, and I had a bout of postpartum depression (blog to come).  I was drowning and felt too weak to reach outside of myself and be supportive.  Not to mention, in my family, we get weird about emotional intimacy.  (Seriously.  If you came to either one of Amanda's memorial services, you might have noticed that we didn't really cry or touch each other.  It's a strange thing about us.)  Amanda must have been adopted because she desired the rest of us to emotionally get a clue, I'm sure!  But all of that aside, I completely missed the point.  She didn't want or need my time.  She wanted and needed ME.  And she desired to be needed too.

Our last picture together at brother Jay's wedding

It pierces my heart to think about the emails she wrote that I forgot and left unanswered or the requests to hang out that I didn't make time for...and we lived in the same city!!

She was always the strong older sister who had everything figured out, so it seemed in my eyes.  To see her hurting, weak, and vulnerable left ME emotionally paralyzed.  How was I to navigate this sudden shift of my sister needing me and not the other way around?

Amanda was in radiation for six months in LA.  She had a cute little apartment up there and would commute home on the weekends.  And I NEVER ONCE visited her up there.  I had a thoughtful idea of making her a cute bunting garland for her new apartment or sending postcards, but I NEVER DID.

She came home from radiation around Christmas and excitedly shopped and decorated with a new theme in mind.   Darling birds nestled in her tree and tabletop were symbolic of a new season, of healing, so I thought.  Yet, she knew this would be her last Christmas.

Cash and Aunt Amanda

In January, she stopped by my house.  It wasn't like her to just drop-in, but I believe she had just come from a doctor's appointment.  All I remember now are the tears that fell that day.  The weight of her realities were closing in on her and I didn't know what to do.  I was in denial.  I failed my sister in so many ways.  So many missed opportunities to pray for her, hug her, affirm her...

Shortly after that, Amanda put together a sentimental slideshow.  I was so upset with her.  She was going to beat cancer.  Her protocols and radiation, the years of restricted eating, the goodness of our God, would heal her.  What was she thinking?  Was she trying to make a farewell slideshow??  Just a few short months later, she declined a feeding tube and tracheotomy, and we watched her wither away into a shell of the woman we knew.   I don't blame her one bit.  Her preference was to live a full life, not an extended death.

Cash and Aunt Amanda

God so kindly took her peacefully.  I know that she would forgive me and hug me tight if she could, but while I write this blog, she is talking to Jesus face-to-face and is exploring the beauty of heaven.  I'm pretty sure her love for me pales in comparison to hanging out with the God of the Universe in ALL OF HIS ASTOUNDING GLORY.   I know she's fine.  She's more than fine. ;)  She's not reflecting "on how flaky her little sister was because oh my goodness, Abb, I'm petting lions up here and wow, the scriptures were packed full of so many things we missed on earth!"  (She loved cats!)

The way I grieve my sister looks different than some would expect.  I think about her daily.  And I take my husband by surprise with my timing some nights!  The late hours of the night find me searching for her photos on Facebook or stumbling across her blog.  My heart is heavy with missing her and missing the moments I could have had, but didn't make time for.  And it's also these ill-timed missing-her-moments that pop up when I might be able to sneak a few minutes to make time for my husband, but sadness does not a baby or love make!