If not me, her

I just saw the video of my cousin Jennifer and, now cousin-in law, Izzy’s wedding this morning under my covers and it made me weepie and so damn happy I was able to be there. This is my family. This woman grew up in my dad’s house and when I would come to visit every other weekend, she was there with her own room and I slept in my dad’s bed or on the couch or upstairs in the spare. My dad became her dad. The role I thought was inherently mine (his daughter) became hers. So much of what we all went through as kids could have made us resentful, spiteful, jealous. We both had what the other didn’t – I had an amazing mom. She had an amazing dad. Mine.
But whatever painful feelings I may have had about not knowing my dad as well as she did – I knew I loved her and not one once of little girl me ever blamed her. She was so much cooler than me – she listened to rap music and had boyfriends and watched Days of our Lives. She was my sister and maybe we knew back then that someday we would need each other to wade through all the shit of being adults. We knew deep down before we could even form how we felt, that we had to bond together.
Don’t get me wrong, I had a wonderful childhood with my mom and I can’t imagine growing up any other way, but I think some children just grow up with holes. Mine was not really knowing my dad.
But what I know and what I always will is that I’m glad she had him. I’m glad he took care of her. I’m glad she is the woman she is today because of it and because of who she was born. If not me, I’m glad it was her because she’s too damn important to be one of the lost. And that’s the God’s honest truth.

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