If laughter could have a name it would have been her. My sister was full of life, joy, and laughter.
Truthfully, growing up I really didn’t think anything about her being different. So what if she was in a wheelchair. All the more fun to ride! So what if she couldn’t talk; I’d be her voice. Sight? I’ll be right beside her. Sound? I’ll sing in only the tone she can hear.
Our birthday was a celebration in our family. Not just a birthday party, but a celebration of life. Course it’s got to be celebrated, when the Lord has so obviously given it. Every so often mom would tell me about it. How they didn’t know they were having twins till late, how we were born early, how they gave Lee twenty four hours of life. How mom somehow from within her when the doctors told her she ought to see her daughters now, for one may not make it, that she responded with bravery “I’ll see both of them tomorrow”. She told me once her favorite thing in the world was to wake up in the morning and hear us waking up too. The sound of us moving and breathing. Life. A gift. One more day.
Memories of Lee come in painful spurts. Memories that I can’t believe I forgot will just come back. How she loved peanut butter milkshakes and would grasp toys handed to her and try to hide them under her leg in the chair. Favorite toys she kept, unfavored got tossed literally. We were total opposites. She liked Tchaikovsky, I liked Beethoven. She liked beets, I couldn’t stand the sight of them. She loved to get in mischief and press people’s buttons. I wanted to keep out of trouble and out of sight.
Of all the memories, her laugh stays with me the most. Light and joyful like the sun light gracing the sky in the morning.
September 21 1982-February 18, 2009
