This weekend I had an unexpected evening with two of my sisters. I had planned an afternoon of nothing but cuddles with my littles, but shortly into our grocery run I was texted to join for birthday cake and fun. I didn't realize how much I needed that evening until I was in the thick of our giggles.
I am the youngest of five, one brother, the rest girls. It is important to note that we had one bathroom growing up. Yup, 5 chics, one shower....if you just groaned imagining the inconvenience of it all multiply that by 100! To say that much estrogen produced some raging arguments is an understatement- some days I am not sure how we survived.
Growing up as the youngest I had incredible role models teaching right from wrong, how to's and why not's, the lies not to tell mom when you got caught sneaking out and of course how to navigate a tiny town with limited options for fun. By the time I was a junior in high school I was on my own with mama. Some of my favorite memories of my tiny town are those years. I didn't have what I thought was the shadow of my sisters to live under. I think by the time our teachers got to the fifth one of us, the were just happy there weren't any more. There wasn't much I could do to stand out, though that was never my goal, but even so I was just another "Fenton Kid." I didn't realize then the weight that phrase carried.
We have had our hard times. Incredibly hard times, months with out talking, obscene name calling, saying unthinkable things that can't be undone, but as I look at how much we have grown in the last two years I can't help but think all of that crap has made us stronger.
Two years ago we found out our dad was dying. If I had a nickle for every time this man told us he was sick I would likely have a decently padded checking account. This time was different though. This time the news came from a hospital room, numerous blood transfusions and no cure. Yes, this time he was very sick and we all knew his stubbornness would result in him busting out and not going back for help. I truly believe in those moments of us struggling to deal with our feelings we started to mend the bridges that very clearly separated us.
Over the next 3 months we made our trips for one last hug, and wrapped up the year by grieving the fact that our father was gone, and the relationships we all one day hoped to repair were buried with him. Those days, and all of them that have followed have revealed some lessons in truth and love.
Growing up, my siblings took care of me. Each in their separate ways. Renee had to step in as adult at 13 years old. What was supposed to be the days of reckless games and discovering who she was, turned into making dinners, cleaning the house and ensuring hers and everyone else's homework was done. She got a job as soon as it was legal, not to put gas in her own car but to keep the lights on and food on the table. She was forced to grow up too fast. Jennifer, who I know without a doubt is a direct carbon copy of my dad's humor and stubbornness never got to be her own person until she was out of school and away from the standard of home. She was stuck in the in between of swallowing her heartache and putting one foot in front of the other so the rest of us didn't feel the pain of mom doing it all on her own. She has continued to lead her life that way, dealing with life as it comes and never letting excuses get in the way of success and progress. Dawn, my partner in crime and what I didn't see until much later was my shield. She wasn't much older than me witnessing all the same chaos, but she was always told to get us out of the way. She did, even in high school when I earned my first broken heart. She cornered the boy telling him he was a coward for leaving me a break up note. She is always the first to stand in front of me shielding me from the storm until we are all able to stand through it together. The thing about all of this is that I don't know if I ever said Thank You. My reality in those years was so much different than theirs, because I had them to keep me from it. My memories are different and not nearly as hard to look back on because of their strength to stand up and keep me from the harsh reality of it all. I got to be a kid, because of the sacrifice they all made to shelter those after them- I had it pretty good, because I was the last in line. I didn't have as close of a view to the front lines they protected me from. I am glad for that, but ache for the burden they now carry.
In the past two years, we have grieved the same man in very different ways. We have taken our turns being angry and asking questions, but the thing that has remained constant is that we are going through it together. We nearly lost our mother, and in those moments of not knowing what was coming next we put our differences behind us and banded together to help our hero fight an incredibly tough reality; that her protector was gone and she had a very different life ahead her. Mom needed us to stand together at the moment to help her keep fighting, that's when we joined hands and I'm certain we haven't let go.
Yes, the silly arguments have come and gone still over the last 2 years, but one thing remains- our crazy bond.
As an adult I realize our similarities now much more than I did when I was young. I was so busy trying to stand apart from them and be my own that I didn't own the fact that we all have the same humor. I didn't stop to see that when we smile really big we all have one eye that squints noticeably more than the other. Now, I see that when we laugh, we all throw our head back the same way and we all love with a fierce compassion for fun. We all sing to the radio and take every chance we can to go the extra mile in theatrics with it, especially when it means embarrassing our kids. Chili and Cinnamon rolls on Christmas Eve are not only a tradition but a rule, and you never serve dinner with out Dorothy Lynch. "Ope" is a term we all use in the same tone to express - well anything- it's our blanket term for most any situation. Our group text messages are my saving grace most weeks and I can honestly say, my sisters are the funniest people I know! Our blunt response to life's little bumps (or big ones for that matter) has resulted in more belly laughs and happy tears than I could ever count. Yes, we are bit crazy- some might say intense- but we are each others keepers.
Our differences are there, yes we are individuals and I am grateful for that too, but in the last couple years my appreciation for our silliness and never ending love for each other has become one of my favorite past times. I long for the moments we all get to be with mama and act like idiots because even though we look like fools, we are making the same memories that hold such a special part of my heart. I want my children to have the bond for each other that I have for my sisters. Because of them, I couldn't be more proud to be another "Fenton Kid"
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