MY HEART IS BREAKING

 Basically, I am sitting here in the middle of the night awaiting news I don't want to hear. In a last ditch effort, with a high degree of possibility of failure, my brave sister took a chance. To kick start a remission of her multiple myeloma. She has been fighting it for quite a long time, but she is tired, so very tired. All went well until it didn't anymore.  

While I sit here in a dark room lit only by the screen, I find myself wandering through years of memories, warm, funny, sad, loving. Memories of a sister. My big sister, my idol growing up. I watched her laugh and dance to Hebrew music from the rather new state of Israel, where she now resides, a quiet but strong Zionist. And here she is happy.

My sister. Who introduced me to the early years of rock and roll. Songs whose words I know. We sang them quietly in our room, all the while chatting quietly and I think I knew her friends better than they knew themselves!  Tzipi schlepped me to the movies when going there with her friends, never making me feel like a fifth wheel. 

As I watched Tzipi work hard at homework assignments I learned the importance of schoolwork and responsibility. I knew the names of her teachers, sang the songs of the yearly competition, and I believe I vicariously knew her teachers in more detail than I did my own! For how many hours Friday night did we sit on the floor of the dinette on Lefferts Ave and play jacks. All the levels and techniques. Bu she never taught me how to jump rope and still cannot to this day.  

But most of all, Tzipi taught me how to be a good person. How to care for others, to be kind and considerate and yes, OK to get into a bit of mischief but never to cross the line.    

In other words, no matter how far, how much the distance between us, we were always next to each other, right beside each other. Through thick and thin. Always. An ear open to listen. Always arms open and a shoulder prepped to be leaned upon. A heart big enough to embrace both of us. 

I marveled at her professionalism. The years we worked together in the same school were some of my best years. The notes we sent to each other. My raiding her drawer for a piece of chocolate. Always there will be the memories of how we convinced her students she was turning108, even bringing in a cake to that effect. How we laughed when a sweet little boy reassured Tzipi that she looked younger, like maybe only in her 90's. And we laughed more. 

My Tzipi. My big sister. My friend.

I so hope a miracle comes our way and you heal and return to us in the best state of health, to remain with us for many more years. 

But if you cannot, then with love and a broken heart I give you my permission to go, to be at peace, with no more pain. To watch over us from above as you bask in the warmth of Hashem and are welcomed into the arms of all who have gone before you and who love you still.

But I do not want only the memories of our yesterdays. Or our recent todays. Especially the last weekend we spent at the Inbal.  I want our tomorrows. I want them so bad. I need them. I need you. Lord G-d, do You not see my tears splash on the keyboard?  Do You not hear my cries of impending loss?

Please.