My sister died 31 years ago today.
I think maybe that is why this week is both a sweet and bittersweet time of the year. T.S. Eliot said that April is the cruelest month. I know what he means.
My sister and I were twins, premature, born 2 and 1/2 months early. I had few health problems. She was a different story.
Judith Allison was a tiny little girl with red hair. I guess she got that from my Grandfather Mabe.
She lived but a month. A leaky heart and an inability to get her breath those last few days proved to be too much for her tiny body to take.
I have often wondered how different life would have been had she lived. Somebody told me recently that having a twin die in infancy told them a lot about me and how I view the world. I didn't exactly know what she meant, but I have a suspicion.
Maybe I have tried to take up her life, too, tried to run a little faster, study a little harder, sing a little louder, love a little harder. I don't know. Perhaps I become disillusioned when I realize I haven't lived up to that standard.
Whatever the case, I drove to work on this heartbreakingly beautiful April morning, lost myself in the blue of the sky and the gold of the sun, and thought awhile about the sister I never knew.