Fifteen years ago today, Erin and I learned that her sister Wendy had drowned during a vacation in Mexico. We don’t know exactly what happened, and we probably never will.
Erin was five-months pregnant with Vivian at the time. In the therapy that followed, the therapist reminded Erin that her child wouldn’t be born grieving, no matter how much we were, and to respect that. However, we have taken pains to tell our children about their aunt, and celebrate her life on this day that we now call “Sisters Day”, to remind them, and ourselves, of how important she was in the lives of those who loved her, and of the importance of our siblings.
The kids have, in the past, taken to this day as an excuse to share cupcakes, or make milkshakes. They were not born mourning. However, I did hear Eleanor talk about her aunt when she was speaking with her online instructor during an art course.
Seeing how Vivian and Eleanor are doing with their art, I do feel sad that they never got a chance to share time and that art with their aunt. It would have been something that would have connected them; I know she would have cheered them on.
They do look up to her. And perhaps we can honour her with their art.
