I'm Not Ready

You and I grew up together
Even shared a room for years
Just knowing you were there in the dark
Helped to calm my fears

But time marched on too quickly
And soon it was your wedding day
I cried myself to sleep that night
Because you weren’t there to say
“I love you”

I wasn’t ready to be without you
I wasn’t ready to move on
I wasn’t ready to do things by myself
I didn’t think I could be strong
I didn’t want to travel alone
Down some dark and dusty road
I just wasn’t ready to let you go

We’d talk and laugh together
Through nights into the dawns
My big sister, my protector
My best friend as life moved on

But it ended way too quickly
You got sick and lost your hair
Too young, you had to face the end
But laughed through fear and despair

The day I got the phone call
They said you were slipping away
I drove a hundred tear-stained miles
So I could once more say
“I love you”

I’m not ready to be without you
I’m not ready to move on
I’m not ready to do this by myself
I just don’t think I’m that strong
I don’t want to travel alone
Down this dark and dusty road
Sister, I’m not ready to let you go

On a dark stretch of highway
Late that night in May
Over the phone, one final time
I barely heard you say
“I love you”

In Giving, You'll Receive

In memory of my sister

When you love a woman, remind her every day.

You never know when she will be taken away.

Treat her with dignity even in her flaws.

Love her powerfully without giving pause.

Take plenty of pictures and share lots of mirth.

Build treasures you’ll remember when she leaves this earth.

Friend, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, grandma, wife,

Tell her you are thankful she is part of your life.

Find no regrets when her time here is through,

And remember the love she in turn gave to you.

Marjorie's Mailbox

Marjorie stood at the front window and looked forlornly outside at her mailbox. The bright paint had faded with years of exposure to the elements, but the box remained strong and dutiful despite its worn appearance. She still felt a twinge of excitement on her daily trek to retrieve the contents, even as her steps became less jaunty and more of a shuffle.

Oh, the things that mailbox had held over the years: birthday and holiday cards, mail-order catalogs, ladies’ magazines, reading material from her book of the month club, postcards from vacationing friends. Letters from family members were the best surprises, as far as Marjorie was concerned. Sometimes they held a treasured photographic update of how everyone had changed. Other times she received a letter that included a page written in a child’s scrawl.