[Fiona] The Subject of Tomorrow

It used to be that I couldn't wait for tomorrow. The close of each day meant a new beginning...tomorrow. Tomorrow always brought me hope one more chance to get things right; my diet, my checkbook, my love life. I used to take tomorrow for granted. It will always be there, tomorrow. How could I have been so wrong?

All of my tomorrows changed May 15, 2004 with the passing of my kid sister. We had been through hell and back, her and I. Survivors, best friends, and sisters. We lived our lives in the best way we knew how. Thinking back there were days, memories now, we tried like hell to hold on to…that first kiss from a boy, Christmas mornings, birthdays…now only my secrets, my lies, and my truths remain. We can’t share “remember when” anymore. I wait for tomorrow uncertain of what awaits. Gone is that level of nervous excitement, replaced with the knowledge that all of my tomorrows are mirrored repeats of the days gone by since she passed.

How does a lifetime disappear in the flash of a moment? What were her last thoughts? Questions that can never be answered haunt me. We had just spoken at 5:40 p.m. the night before, how could she be dead? It just couldn’t be true. I awaken. It is still dark enough in my room that for a moment I am not sure I am alone. In my haze I call out, “Breny?” There will be no answer and that makes me sad. My pillow is wet from the tears I shed in my sleep. Quietly I slip out of bed and make my way into the darkness of the living room. Another night I don’t sleep. Sadness, tears, and memories keep me from sleeping.

She arrived February 6, 1967, and I was sure she belonged to me. How wonderful of my parents to have brought me a kid sister to play with! I don’t think I can remember a time when she wasn’t with me. I was the big sister. I took my job seriously. I taught her to read and write before she was in kindergarten. I protected her from school bullies. I taught her to ride a bike, climb trees, bake a cake, and play jacks.

She was the Ying to my Yang. We helped each other to survive childhood. We were more than sisters; we were friends. Breny used to say, “sisters by birth, friends by choice.” I often find myself wondering if she knows how much I miss her. I plod along, I try to find my way without her, and often I am afraid. My life will never be the same.

Tomorrow is her birthday...