Today is the day my sister Helen was born. 1960. She died in 2010. I wrote about it here.
Birthdays always strike me as a puzzling thing. Celebrating the passage of one rotation around the sun just seems odd to me. I get that we like to mark the passage of time, so as a marker then I guess that’s what we’re left with.
In any case, that’s not why I’m writing right now.
I’m writing about my sister who is no longer with us.
I miss her.
We didn’t see each other a lot in the last 10 years. But in years past I frequently dropped into her house in Ballarat on my many trips to and from Melbourne. Sometimes just for a cuppa, sometimes for a meal.
I had a relationship with her two children, my nephew and niece. I kept up to date with the latest in their lives. We spoke on the phone often.
Then I got married, had my own family, moved to Melbourne and saw much less of her.
I miss her because she’s just not here any more.
I think of her often, but on her birthday I know that I’m not going to make a phone call or send a silly card or send that email.
It doesn’t matter how many times we fling around the sun, I won’t forget.
Happy birthday Helen.