Actually, two of my sisters are gone, and although I think of them often, on their birthdays I like to do something special to remember them by. My sister Sarah is easy. She used to take my mom out for margaritas at the Hacienda, so on her birthday I generally have a margarita. In all honesty I never even tried one until she died, which was 2004. But they are pretty good, and a great way to remember her.

My sister Stephanie (for whom my daughter is named – they spent 10 great years together before she died) is much harder to celebrate. We called her “The Queen of Christmas” because she was so stinking generous to everyone, but I am too cheap for that. I thought about trying to get my own goat (irritate myself in rural Indiana terms) but I really find that oppressive. And because she was a first class competitive gymnast all the way through college, I thought about learning to flip or something “gymnastic-fastic,” but my body says I am too old. (Though Amanda and the kids encourage me on the last one, but probably just because they are my beneficiaries.)

So what do I do? Well, quite honestly I just remember. Steph, for all her abilities to drive me insane, could only really do that because she knew me probably even better than I did myself. Sure, she abused that privilege, and probably with great glee, but although we could fight like cats and dogs, I really have no recollection of her ever not being at my side. It was really more of a game, a game that I played too, but you do not name your daughter after someone you dislike, you do it after someone you really admire and want them to emulate.

And although we were both pretty good athletes, I will also remember as her “big brother” how much tougher she was than me. I was an ice hockey player, which is very physical. She was an all-around gymnast. I often played injured or in pain, she made someone in the athletic tape business rich…..she had to be taped all the time. And despite ankles and wrists that ached all the time, she could leap through the air like she had wings and land with remarkable precision. At 4’6″ and 70 pounds, she was always tougher than me. And if that was not a great witness to me, then she spent years kicking cancer’s butt again and again and again.

So I guess my way to celebrate her is not just found on her birthday, but it is really embedded in my life. I am thankful for that, and I am sure if she could take that back she would, just too irritate me! But this time I finally win!

Thanks for being such a big part of my life Steph. I love you and I miss you. And I will see you again soon enough. (And yes, I am sure she reads my blog!)

Goodnight my friends and God Bless!