Susan is gone.
And my tears for her are, in part, selfish.
But because in losing beloved Susan, losing myself becomes that much more real.
It's an inevitable connection.
I was often comforted by the belief that my sister would be waiting for my mom. Somewhere.
Heaven. The After Life. The place where we go that no one knows until we actually get there but then we can't tell anyone about it.
That was until I had kids of my own and realized that there was no way I could ever be kept away from my children.
And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. That the circle of life continues on, as we give birth to the family that came before us. And so on and so forth.
Around and around.
I see my sister's eyes in my own daughter. I see my friend's mom in her children.
And I don't think it's just a coincidence.
I won't know if I'm right until I leave and come back again.
But it gives me great comfort that Susan will always be with her family. Maybe waiting patiently in the stars that she loved so much until it's her time to return, when her children will be holding her like she held them.
Because these babies of ours, they are our blood, our tears, and our souls.
Together we are mighty crews of earthly warriors and explorers.
Waiting patiently for rebirth and reunion.
Soon, dear Susan. Soon.
In lieu of flowers, the family of Susan Niebur is asking for IBC Research Foundation. Please donate.