Everyone that you know in and around your life, myself included live their lives in a bubble. Wait, hear me out. As adults we generally have a decent dedicated small circle of friends and family we lean on, look up to and hang out with. These people are part of our bubble and in turn we are part of theirs. It reminds me of math class when the teacher makes the circles on the chalkboard showing where common variables are within the innermost middle of the bubbles that are intersecting each other. This is life. The bubble changes size many times in the course of a lifetime. Variables change; people come and go, loved ones die.

I have an older sister. She was recently diagnosed with stage four cancer. Our family bubble has always been lopsided. Not perfectly formed, difficult to maintain. Our mother was a wounded soul, who brought that into a family dynamic. Those wounds braided themselves into the fabric of our lives. I often found myself at odds with my older sister. Yes, there were times we truly got along. Sadly, there were many more times when I just didn’t want to be part of her bubble. I have always loved her. I have not always liked her or appreciated her. It is a wonderful thing that love never dies or gives up.

Because I am an ass that holds a good grudge our relationship has been strained for many years. I take full responsibility. She didn’t reach out to me about not feeling well until the rowboat she has been drifting in life with started to take on more water than she could bail. There has been contact throughout our grown-up lives but nothing really meaningful. She moved out of Massachusetts in the late 1980s. Only rarely to come back this way. Weddings, funerals, the occasional “I miss the family” tantrum, and in the grand scheme of things just because she wanted to be loved by her bubble, her family.

I have always been the odd duck. I prefer Swan, but whatever. I was the middle child. I am an introvert. Go ahead and have a good laugh, but it is true. When you experience me in public that is the mask I learned to use for survival. I prefer tangible things that don’t have emotions over people who make life messy. Being this way makes me appear angry and judgmental sometimes. I have never been good managing my own emotions. No one ever taught me. My mother was ALL over the place. Happy one minute, raging against the machine the next. Growing up was? Let’s just say I am adult survivor of our shared childhood traumas. Enough of that. Time to get to my point.

Celine is my sister. She has stage four Breast Cancer. I know very little about her adult life from the past 25 years. My choice. In an effort to create my own (bubble) life, my own version of happiness, I simply did not reach out. I cannot change the way our paths have gone. I am unsure about how I feel. We have spoken. I am at odds. I am angry for us. I am angry at myself. In my efforts to avoid feeling or dealing with my emotions, I hurt her. When in fact I just wanted to exist in a place where peace reigned. Foolish mortal. I cannot undo what has been lived. I am sorry I wasn’t … present in your life. I am sorry I missed the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I have no idea how much time she has left on this plain of existence. I hope she finds peace in her final days. I do indeed LOVE her. I hope our loved ones on the other side of the veil greet her with the love she missed in this life.