My beautiful sister turned 30 on Sunday. When some of my friends turned 30 I paid tribute with words as best I could. Today I braved the snow to sit at Panera and try to do the same for my first and best friend.
I’ve known my sister all of her 30 years. In fact, my very first memory is of meeting her. I remember being in the hospital room with my mom and dad and brother. They wheeled her in the room inside one of those clear, plastic basinets. I could see her little head, topped with a fine layer of bright red hair. She was tiny and pink and impossibly new looking. She was magical. Then my aunt’s friend took me to the vending machine and let me pick out whatever I wanted and that was magical too.
Growing up my sister was a shadow I wanted to shake. I hated when she was allowed to do the things I was doing. I wanted her to earn it, as I had, to wait the appropriate amount of years to partake in whatever privilege I had. We were a little less than three years apart and she was always right behind me, wanting to do all the things I did. I may have been unnecessarily territorial.
It wasn’t until high school that I began to really appreciate my sister. Of course it didn’t start that way. I remember being so pissed that I had to share my dad for the daddy/daughter dance the fall of my senior year. I’d had him to myself all the other years and suddenly my freshman sister was there once again honing in on my territory. But by the end of the night, after dancing and laughing and genuinely enjoying my sisters company she became a real, relatable person. After that I liked seeing her at school, knowing her friends, sharing the peripherals of each other’s world.
When I went to college I missed her. She continued to grow into this interesting, unique, funny person that I wanted to be around. After college I moved to New York. She came to visit me one weekend and after I dropped her off at Grand Central to catch the bus to the airport I had the sudden realization that I was ready to move home. Why the heck was I living a plane ride away from all my people? I wanted to be flying back on that plane with her, seeing her more than just holidays and occasional weekends.
When I think about my sister all I can think of is “there.” She is my ultimate go to gal. She’s been there for me in every sense of the word. When Tommy and I would get in fights during our dating years she was the one I’d call because I knew she loved him and me and she’d sort me out. When I eventually married him she was right there next to me. When Liam was born and everything was harder than I’d ever expected it would be my sister was there. She lay in bed with me, Liam sleeping on one of our chests watching iCarly or some equally terrible show for hours on end. Anyone who knows my sister will tell you, she shows up for her people big time. She’s there.
My sister is funny. And smart. She has the biggest heart. She’s devoted and loyal. She knows how to connect with everyone. In our family she is the lynch pin, mostly because she prioritizes us. Being with family is important. She’s everyone’s favorite sister (and I’m not even bitter because she deserves it.) She’s used her tremendous talents to work for non-profits because she believes in the work. Her friends will tell you she’s the one you want in your corner. She’s loyal and loving and fierce.
It is my kids that are the luckiest when it comes to my sister. She has loved them deeply and greatly from the moments they were born. Finding a unique way to bond with each of them has given them all individual relationships with her. She is playful and patient, loving and helpful and they love Aunt Ry.
When I was younger I hated how much my sister wanted to imitate me. Matching outfits made me grumpy and her treading into any of my supposed territories sent me into a rage. Now though, I want to be just like my sister. Truly. When I grow up I hope I’m more like her.
I’m not usually at a loss for words. But when it comes to my sister all I can come up with falls short. I will reread this essay a thousand times with a angsty feeling because it just doesn’t quite do her justice. I don’t know if all the perfect words in the world with encapsulate all the things I love about her. So I will end with this: I love my sister so much I named my first daughter after her. There is really no one else I would rather she emulates. If she can inherit a fraction of my sister’s character, along with her name, she will be lucky.
Happy birthday Ryann. I love you too much.
