My life and my only sister's have converged for a few weeks on the Southshore of rural Nova Scotia. Over the past thirty years we have only been toegether perhaps a dozen times, maybe less. Her marriage took her to Iowa, my life has been lived primarily on the East Coast. We have both been busy raising children - 13 between us - and cutting the financial corners familiar to large, single-income families. We've had little time or money for travel.
But my Dad's cancer has brought us here at the same time, at a similar point in our lives. We both brought our youngest, pre-school aged daughters with us, but we both have to return home soon to take older children to college.
As I drove to the hospital this morning for my daily visit with my dad, I was struck not by the similarities between us, but our differences. I am the elder, and definitely have the wrinkles to show for it, but I have felt young and uncertain of myself often this week. Here's how we stack up:
I am older, but she has been married longer.
I've had more babies, but she's endured a c-section.
She's far more computer-literate, but I have traveled more.
We both struggle with our weight.
She's exacting about doctrine and theology; I have forgotten most of the finer points I learned in Bible college - anyone who says "Jesus is Lord" feels like a brother to me.
We both read voraciously, though not, I think, the same books.
She is organized, capable; I am random and sometimes, I think, annoyingly passive.
She seems to know the right thing to do; I am seldom completely certain.
We both like politics, but don't always fit in the same camp.
She has her own bank accounts and manages them online: I call my husband late at night on the other side of the world to ask (again) which account I'm supposed to choose at the ATM when I'm using the Green card. He stifles a sigh when he answers.
I lie awake at night worrying about my dad's existential angst as he confronts his own death; she realizes he probably could get around better if he had a different pair of slippers and goes out to buy him some.
She chats companionably with the neighbors who stop by; I disappear for long walks on the beach.
She willingly assumes Power of Attorney for my Dad to help with his finances; I am secretly glad I live in Asia so I cannot offer.
She is undeniably my mother's favorite daughter; I think I have always been my Dad's. . .
She just left for the hospital to discuss bank accounts and statements with my dad; I am writing this blog.
