Sunday, August 11, 2024
/public-file/3546/Ultra/b2504e0a-8b42-4ddc-b0c8-4ea3ff167bd8.jpeg
Erin was my step-sister. We came together very young, both children of broken homes — carrying our own little broken hearts inside of us — and endured a challenging family environment together for nearly a decade. We were exactly a year apart and people sometimes thought we were twins. Our personalities and temperaments couldn’t have been more different, but we shared a bond — one born of trauma and pain, but also one of laughter and play. After our parents’ marriage ended, we fell out of touch, but I was able to connect with her briefly in the early aughts. I wanted to let her know that when people asked me if I had any siblings, that I would tell them, “Yes, I have a sister. Her name is Erin.” Not a step-sister, a sister. I thought of her then, as I do now, as my sister. I wanted her to know that, and I want you to know that, too. And despite not being in each others lives for so many years, I know that her innate kindness and good nature only flourished as she grew into the woman, wife, and mother she became. I am sending my belated thoughts and most heartfelt condolences to her husband, Jason, her three children, and, of course, her cats and dearest dog. I can only imagine how much you all love her, and I just want you to know that l love her, too. And, Erin, I hope you are sleeping sweetly and sun-kissed in the backseat of a car after running yourself ragged at Storytown — I am right there beside you. Peacefully. I love you, sister.
