Some days

Ever notice how some days are just much more difficult than others?  I mean, from the moment you get out of bed, you pretty much know how your day is going.  Do you land on your feet first thing, or did you step on a dog?  Do you brush your hair, or have to find the brush on the floor after dropping it.  And, if you did drop your brush, did you notice that it just didn't fall conveniently at your feet, but it fell like a hundred yards away . . . or under something?  Then, finding your socks -- where did that favorite pair go?  Honestly, I got two pair just so I'd be lucky enough to find one pair when I really needed them.  So, some days are a struggle.  Now, I believe in God.  I don't always start my day talking to the Big Guy -- if I did, my days would probably be much smoother.  But, no, I prefer to do things the difficult way.  Today, I probably should have talked to God.

My sister died 3 months ago from lung cancer.  Yes, she was a smoker.  But, other than that, I always thought she was the healthiest one of all of us.  She watched what she ate (to the point of being anal about it).  She exercised.  She went to the doctor.  But it didn't matter.  Cancer got her like it gets so many other people in so many other families.  Today I pulled out the bag with the last of the thank you notes I was supposed to have written months ago.  I just couldn't bring myself to open the bag before today.  So, I did finish up the last of the thank you notes.  And the tears started.  And they have lurked just below the surface all day long.  I wrote a little in the book that we got about her life and her memorial.  But I couldn't finish it.  Not today.

I got together with my mom and my sister-in-law today.  We went quilt shopping.  For a while I was able to hold those tears at bay.  (I mean, retail therapy does have it's moments.)  Listening to my mom and my SIL talk kind of made it easier to ignore the sadness.  But since I've been home, there's not much to hear around here.  Ken had choir practice.  So while he was gone, I was in my "happy place".  That's what I call my sewing room.  There I can kind of put life away.  I can think about the project at hand.  That project involved putting together some pinwheels for a friend's wedding quilt.  Then I started cutting out my husband's sister's birthday present -- four placemats with shamrocks on them (her birthday is in March).  

I still haven't been able to shake the tears.  Shake the sad feeling deep in my heart.  I do miss my sister.  It's not fair.  It's not fair that we weren't close.  It's not fair that she's gone and left two kids behind.  It's not fair that my parents had to bury their daughter.  But most of all, it's just not fair that I don't have a sister anymore.  I don't have someone that is supposed to love me anyway.  And I don't have the chance to make it right.  I'll never have the chance to have a close sister.  I'll never have a chance to make it work like it's supposed to.  That hurts.  

I know that I should be thankful for what I do have.  But some days, well, some days I just need to dwell on what I don't have, what wasn't there, and what never will be there.

Tomorrow is another day.  I hope that I don't step on the dog, drop the brush and I do hope, beyond all hope, that I find that favorite pair of socks that will just make everything all right again.


God, thank you for another day.  Thank you for letting me feel these sad things.  Please, take them away from me tomorrow.  One day is all I can handle at once.  Amen.