Eo Ire Itum
Three days after the wedding, we’ve finally cleared most of the evidence off the dining room table. My sister and my new brother are in Colorado on their honeymoon. I’m sure they’re having a beautiful time, and it makes me so happy to think of their happiness.
But you know what?
I miss her. I miss her desperately. I stood next to her and held her bouquet as she pledged herself to her man, and as they both dedicated their marriage to the Lord “for as long as we both shall live”. I smiled and cried. Because it hurts to let her go. “For as long as we both shall live”, we’ll never share a room again. “For as long as we both shall live”, I won’t wake up to her tiptoeing up to bed at midnight. “For as long as we both shall live”, I won’t have to sort her laundry. “For as long as we both shall live”, her towel won’t hang next to mine on the bathroom rack. For as long as we both shall live.
Saturday was a joyous occasion, full of hope for the future and gratefulness for God’s graciousness. The man she married is noble and wise, and I trust him to take care of my baby sister. She never looked so beautiful as she did in that pure white dress, in that pure white church, with her pure white heart.
I’ll miss her borrowing my clothes. I’ll miss sorting through her sheet music to find my own. I’ll miss laughing when she jams the sewing machine. I’ll miss talking until 5 in the morning. I’ll miss how she threw her laundry down the stairs, the way we absentmindedly harmonized in the kitchen, the living room, upstairs, outside. I’ll miss waking up and seeing her asleep in her bed, so exhausted from the day before, looking so adorable. I’ll miss the way she always asked me to scratch her back when she had asthma.
Now I can put my extra books on her vacated shelves. I don’t have to worry about her hearing me talk in my sleep and what I might say. I can keep the AC at whatever temperature I like. I can talk on the phone late at night. I don’t have to wait my turn for the bathroom. And if I cry myself to sleep, I don’t have to do it silently.
But I miss her. I miss my precious baby sister. I miss having to be strong for her, even when it hurt. I miss seeing her beautiful face every day.
She won’t be far.
I can still see her any time I like.
But “for as long as we both shall live”, it will never be the same. Sometimes, I don’t mind. I know that, in many ways, the best is yet to come.
But sometimes I miss her.