Today, November 2, is my late sister’s birthday. I pause to remember her, especially today, though I think of her often still. It still catches me by surprise when I find myself thinking “I need to tell her about this,” when I come across something I think she would have especially enjoyed hearing about.
As I write this, I’m looking at two photos. One is a photo taken in her apartment; she and one of my brothers and his daughter and son-in-law, along with my wife, are all smiling into the camera. The other is a photo of my three brothers and both my sisters, and me, sitting around the breakfast table in my house. My late sister is sitting in her wheelchair, her smile looking radiant and genuine. I miss seeing all my siblings; on this, her birthday, I especially miss my late sister.