July 12, 1977
No, it's not a mistake in the subject line. Thirty years ago today, my precious little sister died. Every year the anniversary comes, one reminder amidst at least 365 reminders each year of her absence from among us. Yet the actual anniversary day remains aday of special re-membering.
I can remember that morning like it was yesterday morning. She had been sick in the hospital for several months, yet still there was hope we'd be able to take her home eventually. In the meantime, God came for her and took her home with Him.
One would think that thirty years would wash away the pain, but the reality is that still I miss her right here next to me. When you really love someone, you never really forget such a loss, but you eventually - with God's grace - come to accept life with it and through the grace of faith relate to the "absent" loved one in a new yet very real way.
She watches over me, I know, and I count on her to continue interceding for all of us.