Tropical Zen

My sister’s husband broke his spine last Sunday, but his spinal cord seems to be intact, thank the Lords of Kobol.

My sister has always been my ally, and except for that awkward period of hero worship/clothes stealing that happened when we were kids, we’ve always been fairly close. She is the most awesome mom I know–I’ve actually seen her apologize to her kid when she was mistaken about something, like it was No Big Deal. I have no idea where she got that from, our parents never did anything of the kind.

I started on my gender path, and she said in no uncertain terms that I’d have to get a legal no-contact order to keep her away from me; a little thing like gender wasn’t going to get in her way. I do love her. Best person I’m related to, hands down. (Although, except for our 3 other siblings, that’s *really* not saying much. Still, Oldest Brother sets the bar pretty high.)

I love my sister. Everybody has one thing that they value more than anything else, and when you understand that one thing, that person’s life choices make a lot of sense. My sister’s thing: Loyalty.

It’s weird, because I’m not sure I understand where she gets the information she uses to choose where her loyalties lie; but for her, the choices she’s made have generally been good ones, and she’ll stick it out no matter what. No Matter What, unless they try to harm her Family. She gets so very much pleasure from her loyalty, like a feeling that she’s doing something Right and Honorable.

She is. Maybe I should get her a medal.

I’m worried for my brother-in-law, though. I’ve lived with 13 years of chronic pain, pain and sleeplessness and rage and fear; sometimes shaking my ineffectual fists at god, often declaring that there is no such being. I would not wish this on my worst enemy. I would not even wish this kind of pain and heartache on George W Bush, though it’s an occasional fantasy of mine that he feel some pain for all that he’s caused. That’s one of the things about pain, though — it’s not just. It’s not something you get because you deserve it.

But when you have chronic pain, nearly everyone who really sees your suffering will wonder at some point what you did to deserve being in so much pain. I wondered for nearly ten years.

I’m afraid for him, and for her; I’m also afraid for me. *I* don’t want to have to see someone I care about go through this, whatever “this” really is. Everyone involved is scared, and the job I’ve set for myself is (as usual) to go in, be rational and attentive and listen, to try to use the right words to help my sister heal, at least, so that she can continue to be the pillar of strength for her spouse and their 2 kids. To be funny and ease some of the weariness. To install a new window for the air conditioner. Maybe even to make dinner, or let the girls color in my tattoos with felt markers.

It’s good to meet with situations that scare us, to take a deep breath, feel it, and go ahead anyway.

So say we all.