I’ve been thinking today about Sisters’ Weekend. It’s about the time of year we usually go, but no one has made a plan.
I have six sisters; I’m the youngest. I don’t remember how long ago Sisters’ Weekend started – it was sometime before I had children of my own, and my oldest is nearly fourteen.
People are usually surprised when I tell them about the weekend. They don’t get along as well with their own sisters to spend a whole weekend together. I find that sad.
We haven’t had a full Sisters Weekend since my Dad died two years ago. We were all working through our grief, and our relationship hit some road bumps, and we just couldn’t quite manage the normalcy. Our Mom died this past summer, and none of us has felt like planning anything fun.
But, my sisters are my best friends. Even though I know I drive them crazy, even though we disagree about politics and religion, even though we are all at different stages of our lives – I need my friends.
The downside of having sisters as your best friends, I’ve recently discovered, is that you all grieve at the same time. We aren’t able to support each other through this difficult time because we’re all faltering.
And I do have friends I’m not related to, but what I really need are the people who know where I’m from; who watched me screw up and stayed around to hug me; who see my good intentions through my bad choices; who, knowing all about me, choose to spend time with me anyway.
Today, I’m worried that I may never have my sisters in the same way again. Change happens, and intellectually I accept that you can’t keep the status quo forever. I even accept that change is good. But, the emotional me just wants everyone to meet up at Ronnie’s beach house, gorge on the junk food we all brought, give each other advice on buying Christmas presents, and stay up late playing silly board games. I want Sisters Weekend as it always was.
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