Saying Goodbye
See you on the other side, Sis.” These were some of my brother Randy’s final words as we held each other, crying, knowing we probably wouldn’t see each other again this side of heaven. It was heartbreaking to let go of each other. I wanted to keep him a little longer. It was strange to start the New Year with such profound loss, but what a way for my brother to enter eternity: new body, no pain, no sorrow, in the presence of his Lord. Randy and I were five years apart and had opposite approaches to life. He was “the scrapper” who wouldn’t be pushed around. I was the older sister, “the pleaser,” who wanted to avoid confrontation. “Live under the radar so no one will notice” was my unspoken motto. We grew up in a neighbourhood filled with children whose fathers had returned from World War II, many with physical and emotional injuries. They were hardworking men trying to get back to normal. Our dad had grown up during the Great Depression. He moved west at 17 after graduating from a small high school in a tiny coal-mining town. To assure that he would never be poor or hungry again, he educated himself and worked constantly. Our mother, an only child, had been one of the lucky few whose
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