The Hole Inside
I will be gone next week and won't be posting here at all. I am working at a small Christian camp in North Carolina and won't be back until Friday. I also don't know if the internet will be hooked up in our new place or not. We're moving the rest of our stuff Saturday and I'm not sure how long it will take to get the cable and internet up and running. Hopefully it will be up when I get back from camp but there's an outside chance I may gone a little longer. I assure you that I haven't abandoned this. The REAL world calls all of us at times and I'm afraid that even the most die-hard blogger must answer when it does.
This morning I'm going to share something that I wrote on another site sometime ago. I have several little things that I've archived that I will probably be putting up here in the future. I am breaking one of my own rules though. There is a name in this post. I'm not worried too much about it though. After you read it you will understand why.
I have a sister who is deceased. The name my parents gave her is Katherine. To me....that is all she really is....a name.
When I was eight years old I experienced an extremely crappy year. In other places I’ve shared how one of my teachers (Ms. B) and my father had a disagreement and she took it out on me. My Dad says that he really didn't say anything out of the way to her, but knowing him the way I do now, I wonder. He has a history of losing his cool and making an ass of himself. Apparently Ms. B was really nasty with him as well and I can only imagine what he may have said to her....I'll never know though. This little incident happened right at the start of school, right as my Mom was getting ready to have a baby.
How many of you remember the anticipation you felt as you awaited the arrival of a baby brother or sister? If you are an older sibling, then you have some idea as to what I'm talking about. I was eight years old and I was excited about getting a new baby. It's all we talked about. The nursery was up, there were gifts in the room....everyone was ready. And then there was no baby. There was a really long night spent with my grandparents while people from church called and came by. I remember the preacher coming up and standing with me behind our car and telling me that everything was gonna be okay and that my sister was in heaven. I honestly don't remember my parents telling me anything. I'm sure they did....I just don't recall what it was. And then all of a sudden, the nursery and all the presents were gone. What a weird thing to experience.
I remember being sad, especially at the funeral. I found photographs from the graveside years later and still have some in my private collection. (What is it that makes people take photographs of things like that anyway?) I'm glad the photos do exist or else I would have nothing to represent the fact that I have a dead sister. We weren't given the option to see her and that is something I have struggled with as I have gotten older. I don't want to second-guess my folks....but I really feel that they should have let us seen her. Sometimes I'm still a little angry at them over that. I really would like to know what she looked like. As it is, she's been reduced to a name that sounds odd as it rolls of my tongue. I think that may have been the beginning of the end of whatever sort of relationship my folks had. Don't get me wrong, I understand how difficult it must have been and I know they were doing what they thought was right. I guess my selfishness gets the best of me sometimes. I would just like to have a face to go with that name.
They did have a another daughter four years later and we were excited....but it didn't replace the hole that was there. I love my sister incredibly and I wouldn't trade her for anything in the world. Unfortunately, I was twelve when she was born and by the time she was two or three, I was a sadistic little jerk. I took delight in scaring both her and my brother. My brother was only four years behind me and I don't think it may have affected him quite the same way it did her. I was mean little snot, I won't lie. I still feel guilty for being as cruel as I was....probably always will. I keep hoping that one day I'll be over a lot of this stuff, but I don't know. I went through a phase where I never thought about any of it....but I was drinking a lot back then. Over the past few years it has really come back to haunt me. I guess having kids brings that sort of thing out, eh?
So that's it....I guess. Twenty-seven years hasn't filled that space inside. Part of me died in 1978 and I've been struggling to find resolution ever since. It may be that I have to wait till the other side....sometimes that's just the way it goes. I can tell you that holding my own daughter has healed part of it, just as my other sister did when she was born. Time takes some of the edge off of it but it never really goes away. There's always going to be a tiny piece missing. But I know that God promises that all the pain and heartache will vanish one day. I may not fill that hole while I continue to draw breath, but one day I will be whole again.
This morning I'm going to share something that I wrote on another site sometime ago. I have several little things that I've archived that I will probably be putting up here in the future. I am breaking one of my own rules though. There is a name in this post. I'm not worried too much about it though. After you read it you will understand why.
I have a sister who is deceased. The name my parents gave her is Katherine. To me....that is all she really is....a name.
When I was eight years old I experienced an extremely crappy year. In other places I’ve shared how one of my teachers (Ms. B) and my father had a disagreement and she took it out on me. My Dad says that he really didn't say anything out of the way to her, but knowing him the way I do now, I wonder. He has a history of losing his cool and making an ass of himself. Apparently Ms. B was really nasty with him as well and I can only imagine what he may have said to her....I'll never know though. This little incident happened right at the start of school, right as my Mom was getting ready to have a baby.
How many of you remember the anticipation you felt as you awaited the arrival of a baby brother or sister? If you are an older sibling, then you have some idea as to what I'm talking about. I was eight years old and I was excited about getting a new baby. It's all we talked about. The nursery was up, there were gifts in the room....everyone was ready. And then there was no baby. There was a really long night spent with my grandparents while people from church called and came by. I remember the preacher coming up and standing with me behind our car and telling me that everything was gonna be okay and that my sister was in heaven. I honestly don't remember my parents telling me anything. I'm sure they did....I just don't recall what it was. And then all of a sudden, the nursery and all the presents were gone. What a weird thing to experience.
I remember being sad, especially at the funeral. I found photographs from the graveside years later and still have some in my private collection. (What is it that makes people take photographs of things like that anyway?) I'm glad the photos do exist or else I would have nothing to represent the fact that I have a dead sister. We weren't given the option to see her and that is something I have struggled with as I have gotten older. I don't want to second-guess my folks....but I really feel that they should have let us seen her. Sometimes I'm still a little angry at them over that. I really would like to know what she looked like. As it is, she's been reduced to a name that sounds odd as it rolls of my tongue. I think that may have been the beginning of the end of whatever sort of relationship my folks had. Don't get me wrong, I understand how difficult it must have been and I know they were doing what they thought was right. I guess my selfishness gets the best of me sometimes. I would just like to have a face to go with that name.
They did have a another daughter four years later and we were excited....but it didn't replace the hole that was there. I love my sister incredibly and I wouldn't trade her for anything in the world. Unfortunately, I was twelve when she was born and by the time she was two or three, I was a sadistic little jerk. I took delight in scaring both her and my brother. My brother was only four years behind me and I don't think it may have affected him quite the same way it did her. I was mean little snot, I won't lie. I still feel guilty for being as cruel as I was....probably always will. I keep hoping that one day I'll be over a lot of this stuff, but I don't know. I went through a phase where I never thought about any of it....but I was drinking a lot back then. Over the past few years it has really come back to haunt me. I guess having kids brings that sort of thing out, eh?
So that's it....I guess. Twenty-seven years hasn't filled that space inside. Part of me died in 1978 and I've been struggling to find resolution ever since. It may be that I have to wait till the other side....sometimes that's just the way it goes. I can tell you that holding my own daughter has healed part of it, just as my other sister did when she was born. Time takes some of the edge off of it but it never really goes away. There's always going to be a tiny piece missing. But I know that God promises that all the pain and heartache will vanish one day. I may not fill that hole while I continue to draw breath, but one day I will be whole again.
posted by Lee | 4:45 AM
1 Comments:
Interesting. I have a deceased sister as well. She was stillborn. The umbilical cord cut off her oxygen or some freak accident like that while she was in the womb. She would have been my older sister. It is weird to think about having an older sister.
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