Dear Margaret,
I still remember the red tricycle our parents gave me when they told me you were going to be coming into this world. You've been the most influential person in my life, even before your birth. I was only three and a half when you were born, so I didn't understand all the complications that were heading your way. You've still got that thin scar from when you kicked the needle during the down syndrome test. I imagine that getting back the test results was only a slight relief to our parents. I can only imagine what they went through.
Your heart wasn't formed the right way when it was developing, you were missing your right ventricle and your tricuspid valve. You couldn't get enough oxygen to your blood. They operated the first time when you were only a few days old. I remember Mom and Dad leaving me at the neighbor's house. She gave me a beat up, bird cage music box. Mom threw it out several years later, I wish I still had it.
You came home after the first surgery and aside from the scars, looked like a normal baby. You had another surgery not too long after. I don't remember much during this time. Everything seemed to go fine. A few years past, you turned three and I was almost seven. At the end of September the year I entered the first grade, you went in for your third and final surgery.
Up until my sophomore year of high school I could hardly recall any memories from those days. Passing through the library one day, a poster caught my attention. It was of a rather common picture of a bunch of fancy hand painted Easter eggs that are suppose to be in matching pairs. I starred at that poster as the memories from your last surgery flooded me. I had seen that imagine before, it was used on a puzzle I tried to do in the hospital waiting room when everyone else went in to see you in the ICU but I wasn't allowed to go.
It was after your last surgery that everything happened. A few days after you got out of surgery Mom noticed that you seemed a bit off. She called in the nurse but nothing was wrong. A few minutes later you had a stroke. It turns out something was wrong, one of your drainage tubes in your chest had been blocked. The clot went to your brain and caused the stroke. They prayed for you at school and gave me presents to bring to you. I didn't understand, to me you always went to the hospital or doctor's office often, why was this any different? Why were you getting gifts, prayers, and attention? Why was I getting pity?
But things were different. You cried when I tried to talk to you or play with you. You were mad at me for being able to go home, walk, and play. I was mad at you for taking all of Mom and Dad's time and all the attention. I remember looking forward to going to the hospital just to get gummy bears and a hamburger in the cafeteria. I liked driving home with our grandmother when it rained because I got to turn the button for the windshield wipers. I don't remember not seeing Mom and Dad, but I must not have seen them very often, because they stayed at the hospital with you day and night.
You spent a month in the hospital. At the end of it you had forgotten how to walk and had to be re-potty trained. The anger between us carried through all of our childhood. I developed anger towards Mom and Dad. It ruined so much. These problems carried through all of my life, until not that long ago. The whole time I didn't understand where they stemmed from. I wish I could go back and reverse it all.
Margaret, you went to play therapy where you buried dolls in the sandbox and said that they had died in the hospital. You didn't sleep through the nights, instead you'd wake screaming. But as far as I know Mom and Dad and I never went to see anyone. Life just went on. Was there anything that could have prevented all the anger? Was it anyone's fault? Why did it take me so long to remember things, to work things out, to realize why I was feeling what I was feeling? I started to work through this issue years later, only to realize that I was only scratching the surface of my problems. A major problem, but only the surface of them all.
And that's where I am right now, dealing with the deeper issues. And I don't think it ever stops here. I think this is an ongoing process. I'm happy with where I've gotten. I'm happy to have you in my life, in such an amazing way. You are my sister. And I mean that in such a deeper sense than I used to. I love you little sis.
