Her Final Gift

The biggest loss of my life.

I am writing this article for me. I need to get this out of my system. Grief builds up pressure like a volcano and if you don’t find an outlet for it, it will blow up when you least expect it. After this article, I will go back to writing the ridiculous stuff I normally write.

A year ago in August, we lost the backbone of our family. Michelle was more than just my sister-in-law. She was my best friend and the kindest person I had ever had the pleasure of knowing. She married my brother when I was seven so I don’t even remember my life without her presence in it. Like most family members, I didn’t appreciate her enough. It took losing her for me to truly value her. I think we are all like that in our closest relationships. I am trying not to let that happen ever again.

She would always offer advice (sometimes without being asked for it) and was quick to thump the hellfire out of any of our kids if they misbehaved. We always joked (but meant it) that she was our mother’s favourite.

She was brilliant, led a charmed life and was everything we all wanted to be. But you couldn’t fault her for that because she made way better decisions than the rest of us did. She had her eye on her goals from day one not day 35,365 like me. My biological sister (and other best friend) and I always dreamed of someone loving us the way my brother loved her. Her illness and subsequent death were tragic but I feel like someone up above knew it was coming and threw a few blessings at us to help deal with the blow.

For the first time in our lives, my sisters and I took a cruise together (our only sister trip) in April of 2019 and went to the Bahamas. We had the kind of stupid fun only sisters can when drinking (playing pranks, having delusions due to Ambien, you know… the normal stuff). I don’t know how this trip came about but we talked about it briefly and then all of a sudden we were boarding. I have never had so much fun in my entire life. We noticed by the end that Michelle was looking and acting a little run down. She napped and that was very unusual for her. She had always been the healthiest one of us which I think is why it hit us so hard. We never saw this coming.

After the cruise (and the best time of our lives), we all went back to our normal lives. My sister and I live in the same town as our mother and Michelle lived with my brother. During the week they lived in a town outside Atlanta and, on the weekends, at their lake house. We went back to our routines and heard through the grapevine (my mom) that Michelle had a cold that wouldn’t go away. She was scheduled to come up the next weekend so we all could get together. This was not unusual as she came upon a near-constant basis to help us with our parents. And by helping us, I mean do most of it, because we both worked full time and could never get the time off. But nothing could prepare us for that visit.

As you can probably guess, she told us she had lung cancer. We all cried together and started our research and advice sharing. I practically shoved home remedy articles down her throat. Honestly, I would have done anything at that point to have saved her. We all took turns going to her house to sit with her so she would know she wasn’t alone in the fight. She died less than five months from her diagnosis after a terrible but short fight with cancer.

It was a heartbreaking and terrible loss for all of us and anyone else that knew her. I got married months later with a framed picture of us three sisters on the beloved cruise propped up in a seat in her honour. It was not a substitute for her but I couldn’t have her so I wanted her there in spirit. She told me before she died that I had made a good choice in my husband and she was right (as usual).

Her daughter turned up pregnant soon after and I can’t help but feel her final gift to us was that precious baby. Her name is Piper Michelle. She means so much more to us all than anyone could ever know. That baby is very loved. The pain of her death came full circle to heal us with the beauty of her grandchild being born.

This picture below I took on my honeymoon when I got out of the car. I can’t help but feel her presence still. Like everyone else who has grieved, I would like something written in stone to tell me she’s OK but this will have to be enough. For now.

Life has become suddenly so tragically short but I will no longer allow myself not to do anything out of fear. Because what do I have to lose really? She would want that for all of us.

This photograph was taken by me, Kylie Craft, on the day of my honeymoon.