We weren’t exactly close. I can’t even remember a time when you combed my hair, played dolls with me or took me to school – the normal things a big sister does. I don’t know how we were back then, to think you were only three years older. You weren’t bad and you never did bully me. You were just there sitting silently in your corner, and I in my own.
But I remember seeing you cry almost every day. Though you never told me why you were in pain, I knew you weren’t happy living with us. You had your own wants and dreams that you felt weren’t heard or supported at home. So when you decided to go and live on your own, I didn’t shed a tear. I was sad, yes, but I knew you’d be much happier somewhere else. And so the distance between us became much harder to cross.
But one fine day in April 2014, you agreed to do a morning jog with me. I was about to fly to a different country for work, and I thought that that would probably be the first and the last time I’d ever get to bond with you. We ran for hours, enjoyed the sunrise and talked in between. For the first time, you told me about your desires and fears. For the first time, you allowed me to listen to what you have to say. On that day I realized that your heart was pure – misunderstood, but pure. On that day, I saw you differently.
Even when years have already passed since then; even when we’ve been fighting separate battles and sometimes forget to see if one of us is hurting; even when we don’t talk often; even when we know that there will always be that awkwardness between us; even when life’s throwing us into different directions, I always go back to that day I finally connected with you.
Today, I know your heart is troubled. Life has not been exactly how you planned it to be, and you think you’re losing grip of the things you used to hold tight. You were such a believer of love and romance and till-death-do-us-part. You used to fight hard for those things. But now, I can see how that fight tired you out. I’m sorry I can’t do anything other than send you words that may or may not help lighten up your burden. But I fervently pray for you and for your healing. I always have.
I hope you know it’s okay to surrender and leave the battleground.
I hope you know it’s okay to ask for help.
I hope you’d finally see what I saw in you that day.
folded sleeves 