Where are you, little sister? Why won’t you write to me? I am so worried.
~ from one of your emails
Dearest sister of my heart,
I miss you. I miss you because I can tell that you’re happy but I don’t know why. I miss you because there is so much that hasn’t been said. But most of all, I miss you because I know that I wouldn’t be missing you if I hadn’t been the one who drifted away.
Story of my life, it seems. So many connections broken, even those that are cherished. Especially those that are cherished. Why? I am still struggling to understand. Maybe because, in the damaged, wounded part of me, I have always been terrified that I would be found unworthy. And my fear has a voice that is sometimes louder than my faith — it tells me that sooner or later, you will realize that I am not who you think I am…and I will lose you. The agony of waiting for it to happen is so terrible that I feel like I have to start the process myself, to get it over with. Maybe then it won’t hurt as much. I am always wrong, but I do it anyway. It has become a defense, a shield, for every time the darkness comes around. A false protection that harms more than it shelters.
If there is one thing I wish I could change about this disease, it is that I am not the only one it hurts. You are a victim, too, because you love me. And you do love me. You love me so much that you allowed me to push you away, allowed me to wound you without putting up your own defenses. The stubbornness of your faith in me made you set me loose without ever completely cutting me free. And because love is always stronger than fear, the cord that binds us is still tightly held in your hands, unbroken. I should have tugged on that cord long ago, for it has always been my lifeline.
I’m tugging on it now. Please, may I return to my place beside you? I should never have moved away. Forgive me?
I love you, I do, even when it doesn’t show. I hope I haven’t lost you yet.
Your little sister,