On Sunday I walked the Race for the Cure with two of my sisters, Cheryl VegaRyan and Michelle Vega Applehans (Rebecca was supposed to go, but got sick). Knee issues prevented some from running so we agreed we’d walk and enjoy each other’s company, which was awesome.
Later Cheryl was leaving my house and commented on how much she liked the energy of so many women (and some really great men) doing something together for such a great cause (over 40,000 participants is what I heard). Breast cancer hasn’t touched our immediate family, but all of us know at least one person it has touched.
And we were awed by how it brought all of these people together in one place with their signs and their outfits and their memories. There is something special about the community of sisterhood, the points of connectedness you can make, even with people you’ve just met.
Of course, I’m lucky to have three sisters to whom I’m very close. I’m the oldest, and then it’s Michelle (11 months younger), Cheryl (six years younger), and Rebecca (almost 17 years younger – and yes, from the same parents <g>). We try to get together at least every quarter for dinner or to gather at one of our houses to catch up, commiserate, and support and cheer for each other. I know how lucky I am. I’ve seen others who either never see their siblings or are estranged from them. My sisters are very special. If I need something, they are there. They make me laugh and cry and I know that each day my life is richer because they are in it.
You may not have sisters or brothers or if you do, they may not be close to you (either geographically or emotionally). But I hope that doesn’t prevent you from seeing the other sisters and brothers in your life who may not share your blood, but share your life in a special way.
To my family sisters and brother–Michelle, Cheryl, Rebecca and John–and all the women I call my sisters and the men who are my brothers (you know who you are). Thank you for being in my life.