We just recently returned from Minnesota for some family visitation and a baby shower. I remember putting together my sister's baby shower for her first-born. The late fall/early winter of 2007/2008 was a chaotic time in our extended family. There were birthdays, births, serious illnesses, baptisms, weddings and deaths. It was a whirlwind of emotions but I distinctly remember the excitement of planning Megan's shower. I had decided to construct a tiered cake out of out disposable diapers, adorned with flowers and ribbons. I was living with my Grandpa at the time, and I set up shop at the dining room table to put it together. It took a certain amount of engineering and creativity, plus trial and error, to get it the way I wanted it. My Grandpa looked on with bemusement as I made various attempts at constructing it, de-constructing it, re-constructing it and finally decorating it. Even he had a to crack a smile when it was completed. Yes, it was mildly ridiculous, but it was also an expression of joy held together with tape, pins and a lot of love.
I've gotten over a lot of the guilt and sadness of leaving home, but not when it comes to my sister. It still pains me that I am not within driving distance to be more present in her life. There is something about physical proximity that makes it easier to spend time together. The telephone and Skype are great, but that requires scheduling. Living in the same city means dinners at our parent's house, running to the mall together, helping out with the kids. It's much more spontaneous and if you don't see each other today, odds are you are going to see each other the next day or the day after that. All of those little things, those day-to-day things, you know about. It too easy to let time slip away when you're separated by thousands of miles. Suddenly it's been two weeks since you've touched base and the phone calls reveal all sorts of things that you have missed in each other lives.
I've always felt that it's harder to stay than it is to go. When you stay somewhere and someone leaves, there's a vacancy in all those places that they used to be. When Zac leaves on his trainings and deployments, I believe that I miss him more than he misses me. Why? Because I'm used to running in to him in the kitchen, I'm used to jockeying for position while brushing our teeth at the sink, I'm used to curling up together as we fall asleep. When he's gone, I am fully aware of his absence and all the parts of my day-to-day life that he isn't there for. But out there - at his trainings and on his deployments - I was never part of that reality. I am not "missing" from that experience. He's training, he's working, he's focused on a mission that doesn't include me. So while he certainly misses me, it's a different type of loss for him than it is for me.
That's similar to how I feel about my relationship with my sister. She is used to Minneapolis with me there, being no more than 10-15 minutes away, crossing paths at our parent's house, going to events together, hanging out at her house, spending time together in all of the places that we shared for the first 27 years of her life. And then I left. It's the same world she has always lived in, except I'm not in it. On the flip side, Megan never lived in Oklahoma or Hawaii or California with me. She hasn't been a first-hand part of the journey I've had as a military spouse. Up until now I know that's been tough for her, and for me, but not being together for my first pregnancy has hit her harder than any other aspect of our separation. I can feel how excited she is for me, and how desperately she wishes she could share this particular journey with me.
I wouldn't trade my life with Zac for anything, but it's hard feeling like you've left your sister - your best friend since her birth. I know growing up that we thought we'd always live near each other and have kids that were the same age. We would raise our kids to have the same amazing relationship that we enjoyed with our cousins. I didn't stay in Minneapolis. I didn't have kids at the same time as her. And in all likelihood her kids will be more comfortable with my cousins' children (whom they see regularly and who are the same age) than mine. That wounds me.
Sometimes Megan thinks she needs me more than she really does. She's stronger than she thinks she is, and while I know that her current road is challenging (PA school, two kids, working, trying to find time to spend with her husband) it is one that she will not only handle, but excel at navigating. One of the silver linings of separation is that has forced us, both of us, to grow. We know how to be sisters in the same city, we're learning how to be sisters with many states in between us, and hopefully someday we'll be living closer to each other once again.
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