My
sister and I have always had a love/hate/love relationship. ‘Hope’s the Pope
who smokes dope’, I would taunt. ‘Emily FAAAG’, she would cleverly reply. On
more than one occasion she tried to convince me I was adopted, and I have
oodles of scars on my arms from her razor sharp finger nails. Many a tantrum
was thrown in our childhood home…stomping feet, slamming doors, narrowed eyes
and curled lips. There was the time I refused
to unlock the front door to let her in and she refused to walk around to the
unlocked back door. The time when I was driving her crazy making obnoxious
sounds with the vacuum cleaner wand…until she kicked it and chipped my tooth. Of
course she got in trouble, because I was miss perfect. Over the years we ripped
each other’s posters, stole each other’s clothes, and annoyed each other’s
friend to no end. Our parents gave up being referee and eventually told us to
work things out on our own…perhaps not the fairest trade, since we could both
be pretty mean when we wanted. 
There
are so many good times alongside my sister. Granted, most of them came later in
life, as we matured and realized that having a sister was something precious,
but I feel lucky for having grown up with one.
Having my sister help me plan my wedding, stand up next to me as I committed
myself to my high school sweetheart, watching her stand on her own two feet and
fight for the relationship she really wanted and then standing next to her as
she committed herself to her high school sweetheart, grieving together as we
lost our Grandfathers and witnessed our parents’ hearts break, preparing for
the birth of her first child and all the joy we shared once she finally
arrived, feeling her firm hand on my shoulder as we wept in the emergency room
the day of Matt’s stoke, not knowing what the future held, witnessing the birth
of her second child and the pride I felt at his new name, traveling together to
move our parents from state to state and spending one very special Father’s Day
together just the four of us, snorkeling in Hawaii, Bon Jovi (TWICE!) …the list goes on and on. 
We
haven’t always been super close – our personalities may be polar opposites in
many ways, but still…she is my sister. My one and only. And these past several
weeks, when I’ve been so sad, I know her heart is aching too. She’s been
helpless to fix anything for me, but I hope she knows how much I love her.
One
thing I do remember, vividly as a child…singing ‘Black Water’ in the back seat
of the Mazda station wagon as we road tripped somewhere as a family. Often times we were sandwiched in the back
seat together, forced to listen to the 70’s rock our parents enjoyed. But every once in a while, a song came along
that we loved and we would pretend to play instruments and sing together. ‘Black Water’ was one of my favorites…’pretty
mama come and take me by the hand’… and to this day when I hear it, I think of
you, Hope…and I smile. Here's to my sister...Black Water - Doobie Brothers
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