In this life

The second post in my "Shuffle" series is inspired by the country song "In This Life," by Collin Raye:

Let the world stop turnin'
Let the sun stop burnin'
Let them tell me love's not worth going through
If it all falls apart
I will know deep in my heart
The only dream that mattered had come true
In this life, I was loved by you

This is a romantic song, at heart, and it was actually the first song at my wedding forever ago. But the sentiments go beyond romance; they apply to any number of relationships that pass through our lives.

I commented recently about how common experiences aren't always enough to tie people together for very long. But this is about one of those relationships that stand the test of time and stress.

I have more acquaintances than really close friends, but among those people that know me the best (and love me, anyway) are my family. Specifically, my sister.

Sis is almost 6 1/2 years younger than me, and believe you me - the early years were rough. Circumstances beyond either of our control created some serious resentment on my part. I was positive that my parents loved more, wanted her more, and I still think they gave her an easier time, growing up :) I didn't like that I would have to come straight home from school to watch her. I hated that she didn't get punished for behavior that I was sure I used to be punished for. I have a lifetime of guilt built up for the way I used to tease her, tell her she was adopted, and all the awful things siblings do to each other.

It wasn't until I moved out of the house and got married that we started to become closer. We had a lot more in common by then - she was 18 and I was 25. But even then, I didn't consider her a "friend." I had my own life to focus on and I didn't spend much time thinking about her, and it wouldn't have occurred to me to confide in her.

Then a couple years ago, that all changed. I'm not sure exactly when, just suddenly she became vital to me, and not just someone I had to put up with at holidays. When she got sick, I was devastated, when she said that she was expecting, I was ecstatic. She was the first person I came out to, and the most understanding when I lost my baby. That moment, in particular, stands out...she didn't try to comfort me by soothing platitudes or that awful "it was for the best" that people say. Instead, she just crawled into bed next to me and held me. I don't think she even said anything.

We both have pretty busy lives, these days. She has work, her husband, and a two-year-old to take care of. But she drops me a text or two nearly every day (we love to exchange the funnier Texts From Last Night posts), and she send little messages on Facebook. She's the only person I know who sends letters that aren't included in Christmas cards.

I don't know what I'd do without you, spud. You make my life happier and you make it possible for me to get through some times when truly horrible things are going on in my head. I love you.