Perfect big sister right until the end

I WATCHED, and it was in the middle of the night, a 90-year-old woman as she approached the bedside of her brother who had just died.

He was 80.

Having come from her home a block or two away from where her brother and his family had lived for many years, she sat next to him.

She reached for his hands, held his hands close to her face, and wept.

And, wept.

She moved his hair on his forehead as if to be sure he looked his best to hear what she had to say and she began to tell the handful of people present – including her brother’s wife of many years – of how excited she was to become a big sister when the baby came home more than 80 years ago. Betty relayed how much fun they had had growing up together, just the two of them. She lit up with pride as she enumerated some of his many accomplishments over the years.

Then she said he was very tired, and had been very tired for a long time, and it was time for him to go to a place of perfect rest.

And there it was.

A big sister’s love and role had been fully played, completed. Peace.

Perfect peace.