More Than I Do

Five years ago today my sister passed. She is now where i long to be... in the presence of our Lord and Savior, and soon coming King. So much has changed since that early Spring morning. I learned one lesson though—keep those who answer the phone in the middle of the night close. The one who prayed with me that night told me she would be okay. I can say now, that's still true. She was okay when she took her last breath. And where she is now, she will forever be that and much more. Some days it's easy. Some days it's not. But I can, however, testify one thing:

I have been young, and now am old,
    yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken
    or his children begging for bread. (Psalm 37:25 ESV)

My life has changed. But my God has remained the same. He always will be. 

I hope you enjoy this bittersweet sentiment and reflection.

---

Back to Easter Sunday

Years ago, my sister gave me a book from Joyce Meyer called Enjoy Your Journey for Easter, along with a bag of candy and other goodies.

I know Easter was a couple of weeks ago.

But, this particular Easter was different than any other and carried a bit more significance.

It was Sunday, April 12…

2020.

I bet that paints a picture for you.

It was almost a month into the COVID-19 shutdown. The last thing I had heard just a few weeks ago from my church’s leadership was, “Stay close to the Lord. Stay in the Word and keep in prayer.” That was March 21st.

And unlike every other Easter Sunday, I wasn’t going to church. Which, if you knew me back then, you knew I hated to miss church. In that season of life, being with my favorite people at my home church was everything to me. It made me feel more alive and joyful than anything else ever could.

For several months, our congregation tried to remain faithful, despite our area’s limitations. Thankfully, most of our church family came through, closer and stronger. Thankfully, I made it back to in-person church on my birthday that year.

I hated one thing most of all, though, about this Easter Sunday:

I couldn’t get out to see my sister that day.

I couldn’t hug her. She couldn’t hug me.

I couldn’t rest my head on her shoulder like I always did.

So I postured myself at the end of my bed, still in my pajamas, put my extremely long hair in a not-neat-enough-but-it ’ll-have-to-do bun, and took a selfie. At least so she could see my smile of gratitude and approval. She replied with a heart, a “You’re welcome,” and “Love you, sis.” Then we started texting up a storm to each other, just like we always did.

That year, we took any opportunity we could get to be together. We even spent Mother’s Day on the porch, six feet apart. That Christmas, especially, was memorable.

What We’d Do Again

We chatted over text about what we planned to do once COVID-19 was over. I’d do her hair again.

She’d spend time driving in her now fully paid-for new Chevy Malibu.
She was so proud of that car.
I was proud of her for paying it off.

I planned on riding with her in it to take part in our usual Mother’s Day tradition: heading straight to our local Farm Market after church to pick some flowers for Ma.

We’d all celebrate her next birthday—a milestone that year —even if the pandemic wasn’t totally over. This was a big one for her.

But little did I know... next year, I would lose her.

Needless to say, things were different from that moment on. My family was just as loving as it has always been. But… it was different. My life was different. I was different.

Months passed.

Then a year.

Then another came and gone.

It Was More Than That.

I tried to read Enjoy Your Journey. I wanted to read what she gave me.

But as I did, the pain started to resurface. I knew tears would soon follow.

Every time I looked at it, carefully organized on my bookshelf, I would hear her voice.
Her laugh.
Her well-known, long, DUH-wow.

Yeah, that’s how she said it. That was my sister.

I would see the book’s title surrounded by a hot pink background, and I would think of her.

She loved hot pink, fuchsia to be exact.

Memories came rolling back like film.

Scene after scene, I could see her. I could hear her. I could feel her. My eyes started to well up with tears as I came to a heartbreaking realization. She could no longer enjoy life. And man, did she enjoy it. More than anyone I’d ever seen. She wasn’t the life of the party. She was both the life and the party. So, I put it back on the shelf again.

I began to grumble, telling myself, C’mon, now! Quit being such a baby. It’s just a book.

No, it wasn’t.

It was more than that.

It was a memory of hers.

I didn’t want to remind myself of what I’d lost. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. She once held it in her hands before she wrapped it up and gave it to me. Maybe she smiled when she saw it. Better yet, she might’ve even laughed. I just wasn’t ready to relive all of that. I left it there again on the shelf. And decided to wait.

From the Heart

Fast forward to 2024.

I was riding with Ma that October, like we frequently do. It’s probably my favorite time of the week. I love traveling downtown and looking at all of the small shops. It’s so invigorating but so peaceful and freeing at the same time.

That day, I thought of a recent memory where we’d drive by certain businesses, and we’d play a game of who could sing the jingle of the infomercial first.

Menards was my sister’s favorite.
We belly-laughed over who could sing the jingle with the most exaggerated accent.
J.G. Wentworth was another.

I smirked as the memory slid by, and Ma and I cruised through downtown.

Ma began the conversation and reiterated yet again how much my sister enjoyed life.

Absolute truth.

I said something so nonchalantly.

“She enjoyed life much more than I do.”

I don’t fling phrases like that for no reason.
I felt like I was speaking the truth.
Directly from the heart.

Back to the Basics

I had just gotten back from church that Sunday. Just minutes ago, I came to my pastor after altar call, another person who I’ve also noticed enjoys life and finds moments in each day to laugh or make someone else laugh.

I was a little bit discouraged and confused. And I needed guidance.

While grief wasn’t as prominent as before, I had recently stepped into a spiritually dry season. I became uncomfortable reading my Bible, and praying was difficult.

He suggested I get back to the basics and start reading a devotional. But… one little problem. I wasn’t sure where to start.

That afternoon, I walked across the hall and towards my bookshelf to start searching. I suddenly remembered what I said several days ago. Though I honestly give the Lord credit for bringing that one back to me. My heart echoed again, “She enjoyed life much more than I do.”

I knew it in my heart.
It was time.
I needed to learn how to enjoy life again.

Slowly But Surely

I thought back to the me I was before my sister went on to glory.

I’d been through too much.
I wouldn’t be the same Merah again.

But at least I could try and bring some of her back into the Merah I was becoming.

I went to my bookshelf, picked it up. As I held it in my hands, I felt the smoothness of the cover. I took a deep breath. I opened it up and started reading from the introduction. The pain wasn’t so evident anymore. Instead, it transformed into a journey. A form of work, despite what I felt. It is what my dad would say, “No matter how you feel, lace your boots up and get to work.” Keeping my eyes on the prize. The reward. Knowing God was proud of me.

I could almost hear her say to all the saints and angels around her up there, “Yup. That’s my sister!”

So, did my sis enjoy life more than I do?
Absolutely.

But I’m getting there. Slowly but surely.

And soon...

I will too.

...

If you have been there before, hear this: your grief is seen. It is valid. And though you may not believe it at the moment, it gets better. And life goes on. So, join me. Let's live it to the fullest, and make them proud. :)

—

If you enjoyed it, consider sharing this post with a friend or close loved one. :)

---

Other posts:

---