It could have happened …
It could have been me and not her. It could have been me who got sick at dad’s house in Georgia over Christmas and not been able to get on the airplane to fly home to Florida.
It could have been me who was poked and prodded and analyzed and told by doctors that they didn’t know why I was sick and maybe it was ulcers and maybe it was purely psychological and all in my head.
It could have been me who was told a tumor was found in my brain.
It could have been me who had my skull cut open to have a tumor removed from my brain.
It could have been me who had a plastic shell made for the outside of my head so I could be eased into the radiation machine at Shands Hospital.
It could have been me who had to miss weeks of 6th grade due to my treatment in Gainesville, Florida.
It could have been me staying at the Ronald McDonald House with the other sick kids and their families.
It could have been me who had a pen pal with a serious illness who lived while I died.
It could have been me who got better and beat cancer only to learn a few months later that it was back with a vengeance, this time on my brain stem and spine.
It could have been me who couldn’t keep my balance on my bike because of the tumors.
It could have been me who ate shark cartilage and went through the hell that is chemotherapy.
It could have been me who lost my hair.
It could have been me who had a surprise Valentine’s Day party in my 7th grade class a few weeks before I died.
It could have been me who had seizures.
It could have been me who felt like I had to go to the bathroom all the time and whose face got puffy and broken out because of the steroids.
It could have been me.
It could have been me who had the fucking disease called CANCER.
It could have been me who found God and asked for my Last Rites to be given as I sat in my hospital bed, praying and dying.
It could have been me saying goodbye to my healthy sister Julie and parents and family.
It could have been me writing her poem instead of my poem.
It could have been me dying at 12 years, 10 months, 7 days.
BUT. IT. WASN’T.
It was her. It was Julie.
It was her path … and this is mine.
For so many lost, grief-fueled years, I didn’t know why.
That energy healing and channeling session with Lisa Hines and writing and publishing my book have given me the answers.
21 years after Julie took her last breath, I have clarity.
My work is here.
Julie’s work is there.
We emitted so much ENERGY between us that we needed to split and divide and conquer.
Divide and conquer.
Divvy up and heal.
Do the work.
Share the message.
Heal the hearts.
Rise the tides.
Shine the light.
Sisters on a mission.
SISTERS NEVER DIE.
