One more year. . .

So again this year I received the annual call from my mother saying what I good sister I was to E. I hate that call. My memory of E, how I honor E, are my own. I don't like people soiling his memory- and my mother does nothing but that for me.

Each year E's death date means something a little different for me. As time passes it becomes less searing pain and isolation and becomes more and more a part of how I live my life. My irritation with others attempts to honor him, however, does not lessen over time. I can't control so much about E's life, or death- which is hard for me. But I can control the quiet way I remember him, and how he changed our family- how he changed me into the person I am today.

S and I are still trying to find a church, and I still fight the fate of God with the choice of God. But whether E's life was fated to be, or an accident of sin in the world, I am unable to see myself without him. I could not be the sister, daughter, wife or mother I am without him. I hope that his memory makes me honor and cherish each of those relationships so that his life will continue to affect others.

I can never forget the day you died, Brother. I hope you feel honored by my life and how I treat others. I do my best to bring you with me where ever I go.