I love you 10!

The past few days, I have noticed yet another layer lifting off my sister’s spirit.  A couple days ago, we were driving in the city and there was an ambulance just ahead of us.  Kimmie quietly commented, “Ambulance, emergency, Mom.”  I looked over at my sister who had tears in her eyes.  My heart broke for her.  I know she’s the one who found our mom when she died.  I put my hand on her leg and said, “Did an ambulance come to try to help Mom?”  As the tears rolled down her cheeks, almost inaudibly she replied, “Yes, Mama’s dead.  Mama’s in heaven.”  “You’re right, Kim…” is all I could muster up through my grief that seems to wander between the surface of my soul and such great depths that I’m uncertain if it will ever surface, again.

Last night was a moment to cherish.  When I tucked Kim into bed, I proceeded with what has become our nightly tradition.  “Kimmie, what was your favorite part of your day today?”  I was expecting the usual answer of “horse.”  However, last night’s response was, “bear.”  “Bear,” I asked?  “Do you mean the fuzzy bear blanket that Jan gave you for Christmas?”  “No,” she replied and then handed me her stuffed bunny she sleeps with. “Oh, you mean your bunny is your favorite part of your day today?”  “Yes,” she said.  “Is your bunny your favorite part because Mom gave it to you,” I questioned.  “Yes!”  I leaned over and kissed my sister’s forehead and asked her, “do you know how much Mom loves you?”  Her eyes got watery and she smiled and said, “Ten!”  Oh how I laughed!!!  “You remember, don’t you Kimmie?  When we were little girls, ten meant the very best we could do or love someone!”  She just smiled back at me.  I told her, “You’re right Mom loves you ten! How much do I love you?”  Kim grinned and replied, “Ten,” with a sparkle in her eyes.  “Yes, Kimmie I love you ten!”  Then I asked her how much she loves me…the rascal said, “Four,” started laughing, and gave me a knowing look like, “I got you, Debbie!”  Then she leaned over, kissed me, and said, “I love you ten, Debbie.”  This conversation drew me into a time warp.  Suddenly I wasn’t 37 years old and Kimmie wasn’t 39 years old.  We were little girls, again.  There was no pain; just that sweet kindred spirit connection we had growing up.

So, my question to you is what’s better than loving “ten?”  Do you allow yourself to love “ten?”  Is there someone who loves you “ten?”

As I continue to waffle with emotions with my new life, as I try to let go of the past, yet recapture the precious moments…I will strive to love “ten”:  with my Jesus, my family, my friends, and the daily moments that I don’t cherish enough.  What a beautiful challenge my dear sister has set before me.  “I love you 10, Kimmie!”