I gave her a giant hug then sat on the front porch and watched as she drove away. This was one of many times I had had to say goodbye to her. Though it was getting easier, as I became ever more independent and mature, now with my own husband and children to care for, I always had to choke back a little bit to get the farewell greetings out. I missed her, as much now, today, as I did when we were little and she would leave.
She was my older sister, nurturing, protective, motherly; holding me in her lap as a baby, letting me snuggle in bed with her at night when we were young, calming my fears. She was my confidant, my ally, my partner, my best friend; letting me tag along with the big kids through the jungle, passing me raisins during nap time, swinging in hammocks together, telling me her deepest secrets …and not laughing at mine, most of the time. But she was more than that.
One of five girls, she, the oldest, was like a mother to me. I looked up to her and she never let me down, always beautiful, knowing, stylish and cool. I, being somewhat mousy and shy, clung to her spirit and yearned for her affection.
I stood at the school bus stop, waving her on, pretending to be happy for her, as she left me for her first day of school. Even then, as she boarded the bus confidently, I knew I wanted to be like her, and yet, inside, I also knew, I never would. She had a spirit that led her knowingly along. She was not afraid… or at least, did not show it. She held her head high, poised, her long brown hair hanging neatly down her back.
When she left me to head off to Germany, she was only 7 years old yet already bold and independent. She was sad to leave, but you could see the strength in her beautiful, almond-shaped, hazel eyes. She returned, after braving a summer in a foreign school, worldly, fluent in German.
Heidi was more out going than I, spending a year abroad as an AFS student, rather than a mere summer. I know I was very sad when she departed but this did not seem to impress me. I do remember the day she returned however. I was hiding in my room, afraid she would have “forgotten” me, when she came into my room and embraced me with a warm Australian woolly hug. The year abroad had changed her, but she still loved me. She brought me a small Australian bag that I kept for many years until it was worn, hanging on to the part of her she had given me.
She left me shortly thereafter to go to college. I sat in the back seat of the car, watching her skyscraper of a dormitory on the UT campus. It grew smaller and smaller out the back window as we drove away. I could not believe we were leaving her there, alone, to sleep in that place. My armour, my guide, my friend was gone. It would be infrequent that I would see her, but I always looked forward to when I did, and hated to say good bye.
I had the fortune to spend a year during college in Austin with Heidi as she worked and studied hard to be accepted into graduate school. We would go walking together once a week around Town Lake, sharing our thoughts and hardships… it was always one of my favorite times of the week.
My sister was ever one step ahead, paving the way for me, ready with advice on how to succeed. And succeed she did.
As an unrelated aside, (…and I say unrelated because it was her dedication that helped her to succeed, but it is so much a part of who she is, I find it hard not to mention…) she always looked the part, as if she had stepped off the page of a Vogue magazine. It came natural for her. Her couture arrangements struck me a bit strange, though well put together, until I would see them months later on a famous model and wish them for my own.
With this innate sense of style at her back, she worked very hard, and earned herself a position at the prestigious Columbia Business school.
I remember the day I sat at her graduation, watching her accept her degree. I was so proud of who she had become, so afraid of who I would be, so enchanted by her drive, and so sad that she would soon be leaving me again for a coveted job with Franklin Templeton.
I think back now on each of the times she “left” me, and sad as I was, it always helped me to grow.
With each good bye, she was following her heart, her dreams, taking on new challenges and using them to better herself. With each good bye, I became more independent, more charismatic, more bold, defining myself as my own individual. She, knowingly or not, left me with a piece of herself each time, something small that I would hold and cherish.
It was not long after living in Florida that she phoned me and announced her resolve to marry a man she had her eye on. I did not doubt for a moment that she would, that he would fall readily for her charm… every boy did… a quick glance of her bold green eyes, a flip of her silky chesnut brown hair, her curvy hips, contagious laugh and quick wit… it was all they could do to keep them selves from her. I was very happy for her, but also sad, that she would be moving on yet again.
It all sounds very selfish of me I know, but I missed her.
She blossomed with Niels and became a beautiful mother of three amazing girls of her own, giving them the same love and guidance she had given me.
I missed her.
I have seen my sister many times since then, at least once a year, and every visit reminds me of why I love her. Why I always looked up to her and wanted to be like her. It reminds me of why I miss her so much, and why I don’t want to say good bye. But in the end…I do… and I cry.
Every once in a while, you find the perfect card that says what you are thinking… or wished you had.
“When I was a little girl, my sister was my best friend. Thank goodness I get to keep her for the rest of my life. “
Thank goodness I never really have to say good bye.
I hope in the next forty years that our good byes will become fewer and our hellos more frequent, that our friendship will always continue, and that the joy we shared in our youth will prevail as our bodies grow old.
