When she got here, we sat down. She pulled out a piece of paper and was noticeably nervous. I was fairly perplexed why she was nervous. Then, she began... "Dear Q... This is not a Psych interview and please let me finish before you interrupt me..."
She proceeded to read me the most beautifully written letter. You see, growing up, we had no father, we only had a mother. A mother that was mostly absent. A mother that was emotionally disconnected. A mother that is mentally ill. A mother that was physically and emotionally abusive.
I'm the oldest of five. My siblings needed a mother so I filled that role, even though I was a child myself. I cared for them when they were sick. I wiped their tears and bandaged their 'boo-boos.' I made sure they bathed and went to school. I cooked their meals. Someone had to. I never gave it a second thought. They had a need and I filled it.
Even after I moved out when my youngest siblings were still little, I'd go over and take care of them. I even had them live with me for a period of time.
Having my now almost-30-year-old sister reading me a letter thanking me for always being there for her. For making sure her needs were met. For helping "shape her into the woman she is today" was so rewarding and uplifting. We were both misty. She ended it with a joke, of course, so we laughed. Hearing her words of how much those things meant to her was so special. Hearing 'Thank you' made me melt.
Sometimes, we never get to know how appreciated we are or how much the things we do impact others. I'm glad I got that moment with my sister. (That's me and my sister last summer.)
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