As I look back over 2010 I want to list all the things/events/moments that I’m grateful for but all I can think about is losing our Honey.  My sister’s husband passed away in October of this year and we are all still reeling from the devastating loss.  There are a year’s worth of know like I know moments in the aftermath of this death.

I received a phone call from my sister’s number but it was a police officer telling me that Ken was sick and being taken to the hospital.  Englewood I assumed, no Holy Name was closer.  I’m on my way.  The ride to the hospital was one of those know-like-you-know rides that he was already gone.

For the next week we entered into the shock, disorientation, and roller coaster of emotions that accompany any loss of this magnitude.  I could not do one thing to fix this for my sister and that just didn’t seem right.  I could sleep on her floor, I could watch her, hold her, love her, make her eat something, hand her tissues, remind her to breathe but I couldn’t fix a damn thing. Not this time.

 Ken has a legacy, a very strong and admirable legacy that I don’t think he even realized.  His wake was a traffic jam; a never ending, story-telling, laugh one minute, sob the next affair.  Everyone had a story about how Ken had helped them in some way or changed their lives or kicked their ass (with the best of intentions and always a favorable outcome).  He learned to live with intention and to make up for past regressions, to pay it forward and to help whenever he could.  To that end there is now a foundation in his name.

 Unfortunately, he never helped himself. I’m trying very hard not to harbor any resentment for him leaving my sister and all the others that relied on him.  I’m trying very hard not to curse him out for thinking he was bulletproof.  God love him, as good as he was he was a pain in the ass about taking care of himself. 

I know like I know that my sister was overwhelmed.  There was so much only she knew about Ken and there was so much more that was wonderful about him that she never knew.  In her deepest sorrow came her proudest moments.  But she was amazing, showing grace and tenderness to each person and their story even though she was in excruciating pain.  She was able to feel each emotion out loud, sobbing with no embarrassment and laughing with the same intensity.  She engaged with each person and made them feel all the better for it. I remain in awe of her.   

I know like I know that the three letters OMG when followed by what can I do, I’m praying for you, I’m here, anything you need, or just plain sorry were a more powerful prayer than any other I’ve ever experienced.  In all the disconnected coldness of technology the series of texts I received from so many were more spiritually uplifting than anything else that week.  

I know like I know that friends are instrumental in moving forward.  I watched as my sister’s friends systematically took over her phone, her living room, her social schedule, her life.  I watched as my friends systematically took over my dogs, my home, my phone, and my life too.  Sometimes it’s the most unlikely of friends that rise to these occasions.  I began taking Zumba classes in May and the girls from Zumba were relentless in their vigilance.  But it is those old friends, the ones that just seem to silently show up by your side, that make you truly believe that you can keep breathing.

I know like I know that my sister and I need to show up at my mother’s together for some other reason than something is terribly wrong.  It seems like each time we walk through the door together my mother immediately says what’s wrong.  Rightfully so, we did that when my father died and we did it when Ken died.  That’s a sure sign that something must change.  As hard as it seems right now, we will have something good to show up about. 

The measure of this year is that nothing will ever be the same again.  We will, however, find some way to make a wonderful life for ourselves.  We will grow stronger as a family adding more unrelated members as we go along.  I’ve become a Grandperson to my friend’s children; my sister has become a walking juke box for the little girl upstairs.  We are both favorite Aunts to all those who need one.  We will grow stronger as a family as we reconnect with cousins and other family members.

As for my sister and I, we are who we are, devoted, loving and inseparable through whatever is thrown at us. We will walk together through this year of firsts and look forward to all our future years.  That I know like I know.