An Open Letter to My Sister
Dear Sarah,
One month ago, you went home to be with Jesus. I knew it was coming, but it happened so much faster than I expected and I didn't get the chance to really say goodbye. The night that we found out they were stopping treatment, you apologized to us, and I made a joke about how it was your fault in order to lighten the heaviness of the news we had just received. When I left, I gave you a kiss on your head and told you I loved you.
That was the last time I talked to you.
That was Monday, January 11. The doctor said you had about 2-3 weeks left. Gail and I cancelled the trip we were going to take that weekend in order to spend those days with you. On Wednesday, I took my guitar to school so that I could come by the hospital after work and play for you.
You died 5 minutes before I arrived.
I think about you almost every day. I feel a profound sense of loss. You and I are so much alike. We always just understood each other, and I feel like I've lost my other half. I've lost a part of who I am. I also deeply feel the loss of an amazing auntie. You loved my boys so well. You were so good with them, and they really loved you. Even though Ethan is only two, and it's been a month since he last saw you, he still recognizes your picture and knows you by name. This is how much you meant to them. And this is probably the part that grieves me the most, that you don't get to see them grow up, and that they are going to grow up without you in their lives.
I've had to say a lot of goodbyes this year. Saying goodbye to my friends and my students in Korea was incredibly hard, but at least I had a chance to do it properly. I got to tell them how much I loved them and how they had impacted me. I got to leave them with words of encouragement and remind them of God's goodness in the midst of darkness. I got to give them one final hug and say goodbye before I had to leave for good. I didn't get that chance with you.
I didn't get the chance to tell you how you shaped who I am. I didn't get to tell you how much I looked up to you, how you were my other half because we were just the same. I didn't get to tell you that I was so proud of you for how faithful you had been through this whole ordeal, and that I was so proud that you were my sister. I didn't get to give you one final hug and say goodbye before you left for good.
I really miss you. You were such an influential person in my life because you always reminded me of who I was. You were never hesitant to hold me accountable for things I said and did. You guided me, and sometimes forced me, in the right direction. You were bossy and demanding, but you were also loving and kind. You always saw me as who I could be, and you were also always so secure in who you were. You didn't give in to peer pressure, you never felt the need to change who you were in order to belong. Because of your example, I became just the same as you. I felt free to be who I was and not change in order to fit in with others. Time and time again, you set an example for me that helped me find my identity in Christ. And even in your last months, you continued to do that very same thing. We both had our worlds turned upside-down on us. And for a while, I felt so lost and unsure and anxious. I couldn't see God's purpose. I couldn't see where God was leading me. But you were always so steady, so confident in the Lord. From the beginning of your fight to your last breath, you just wanted to be faithful.
I've never had to deal with tragedy or grief before. I've never felt like I've lost anything. Until now. I don't know what the next few months will be like. I don't know what purpose God has for me here in the US. I don't know why things happened the way they did. But what I do know is this: I just want to be faithful. Your mantra during your fight against cancer has become my mantra for the rest of my life. It's not just something that I hope I'll remember, it's not something I'm doing in honor of your memory, and it's not a lesson that I learned from you. Your example reminded me again of who I am, and so I just want to be faithful because it is the deepest desire of my heart. It is an expression of who I am. I just want to be faithful. I want to be faithful in teaching my children who God is and how to walk in his truth. I want to be faithful in loving my wife, in the being the spiritual leader in our home. In my workplace, I want to be faithful and not be ashamed of Jesus but to share the Gospel through my words, my actions, and my attitude. In every aspect of my life, in every choice that I make, I want to be faithful. And in those times when I fail, when I fall short, when I am unfaithful, I want to confess my sins and return to my faithful Father. To our good, good Father.
I love you, Sarah, and I miss you SO MUCH. But you're with Jesus now, and you are once again setting an example that I will one day follow: an eternity of worshiping him and living joyfully in his presence.
Love,
- J -
