It’s 11:35 as I sit to write this.
I’ve been thinking about you alot lately. The last few weeks, you’ve crawled into my mind, grabbed a comfy chair and stubbornly refused to leave me alone. I never knew you could be this headstrong; maybe you picked that up from me too.
But what do I know? I don’t know you. Never did, never will. You live just in my head.
If everything played out as planned, you’d have been 20 or so now. Surely you’d have been an extremely gorgeous young lady. Your mum was. The boys would have been on your case. True, they cannot yet afford a pair of boxers on their own but they’d promise you the world. And you’d love the attention – at least some of it.
But you never came home. I waited for you. I think I did.
I saw your name on a card mum and dad had written for you. ‘Joy’ should have been your name. I waited and waited. Mum returned from the hospital alone; her tummy as flat as mine. Then the visitors poured in. I didn’t understand what was happening. What 7- or 8-year old could quickly grasp the idea of a ‘miscarriage’?
I never met you, so I wonder if it’s okay to say I miss you. I mean, how do you miss who you never met? But I do. I miss you Joy.
Lately, you’ve bubbled up into my consciousness and I’ve been thinking about what I’d be saying if you were with me today; the heart-to-heart conversations only a deeply concerned brother could share with his kid sister. I’m thinking about watching you bud into a gorgeous godly girl and being proud to call you my little angel, no matter how tall you eventually grow.
I’m thinking about our discussions on friendships. I’m thinking about asking you about this girl or that girl and how you guys met; about listening to the winding stories and trying to answer your questions as best as a man could.
If you were here today, I’d tell you about friendships and how much they can affect your life – if you let them. I’m thinking about sharing tales of guys and girls I thought I’d be close to forever but today we barely talk beyond the ‘hello’s and ‘hi’s. The common grounds have all but sunk and I’m thinking about what my life would be like if I’d let myself copy some of their ways. I’m thinking about telling you this truth – that of all the people in your life today, only a few would still be in it few years from now. Therefore, you must regulate how much influence they wield over your decisions and actions because after everyone else is gone, you’d have to live with yourself – good or bad.
I’m thinking about telling you all about the power of individuality and the force of self-discovery. Picture us working through the issues as we dig beyond the surface to find and articulate who you truly are beneath the smooth skin and spotless makeup (I assume you’d have liked makeup). That’s a beautiful thought.
Maybe I’m romanticizing our relationship too much. Maybe we’d never have been closer than regular siblings. Maybe our conversations would not have been so heart-to-heart as I scream and goad you into obedience with the never-fulfilled threat of a resounding slap. Maybe that could have been us. Either way, I’m just thinking.
I’m thinking about telling you not to be overly excited when you’re told you’re one in a million simply because that statistic is inaccurate. The truth is you’re one in several billions. I’m thinking that your excitement shouldn’t come from being told you’re unique for so is everyone else.
I’m thinking that such thoughts should make you go quiet and away from the high-energy talks and pumped-up phrases, you settle at the stillness of your study table or soft mattress and ask yourself “so really, who am I? Who is Joy?” I’m thinking this way because several years to come, after all the concerts and conferences, after all the clever quotes and witty punch lines, many of your friends may still not know themselves beyond what the energetic speaker said.
I’m thinking that you determine very quickly, to lead a life by design. That you come to that place where your heart is definitely made up to live out your beautiful days, not as a recipient of whatever life chooses to send your way, but as a skilled architect, working under the loving supervision of the Grand Designer of Life, you’ll produce a masterpiece, a rich, full existence.
There’s so much on my heart I’m thinking to share with you. But I’m also getting bored of my ramblings. Let’s pick this up at another time Sis.
Feel free to forget everything I’ve said in this note.
Except one thing.
That I love you. Now and always.