As I was leaving the gym this morning, I heard - and then saw - a disabled woman in her wheelchair. I quickly glanced at her caregiver, who just stared blankly into nothing and ignored her charge totally. For whatever reason, this scene reminded me so much of my sister, Kyla.
I tried to remember how many times she had attempted communicating with us, but we just ignored her, or didn't understand her. I don't remember my mother ignoring her though. If Kyla made sounds, my mother responded to her with encouragement. Theirs was a bond that was unbreakable.
Of course, all those memories brought back the flood of memories around Kyla's death. She would have been 27 this July... She's been gone for 13 years already... I can still hear so clearly my mother's voice on the phone that morning. Shopping for just the right dress for her to be buried in. Holding hands with my siblings and mother as we stood around her gravesite. All so sad, and yet, so peaceful. She had been in so much pain for most of her life. She didn't hurt anymore.
Through all of that, we each knew that she was okay and happy where she was and that no matter how much we were hurting, how much we missed her - we'd see her again... healthy and whole. What a great blessing that knowledge was!
We've lost so many more since Kyla's passing... and each time, we know that Kyla is there to greet them. What a great blessing this knowledge still is!
