“Terri, I have a lump.”  The words gushed out in a hoarse whisper and got stuck halfway out.  I had a new lump form in my throat as I cried to tell her.  Tears pricked in the corners of my eyes as I tried to force the sentence out again.  Terri was the first person I told.

That moment when all of your vulnerabilities fall like a veil to the floor.  You lay it out there because you trust the person in front of you.  I dumped it all at her feet, as I had so many times before.

My deceased Mother had visited her about nine months earlier in a dream.  We thought the warning was for Terri.  She had major surgery that summer.  A rib and cyst gone.  We were convinced that the ominous finger shaking from the other side was dealt with.

But it wasn’t.  Those storm clouds were coming for me.

Terri was the first person who knew I was abused.  She found me my new home.  She made me take it, walked me around while I was shaking my head in denial.  She talked to my son when I couldn’t.  He connected with her on Facebook when he couldn’t reach me.  She rode at dawn with me like the cavalry.  She sat with me in court case conferences, CAS offices and shelters and reminded me of what was said.

She scared the shit out of my new landlord when she asked him to mount my oversized mirror – 8ft by 5ft – over my bed.  It’s a lovely floor mount model … she was convinced would fit in her truck.  It didn’t so I had to call around for a ride and Becky saved my ass.  That mirror that leans against my wall, not my ceiling.  But my landlord never looked at me the same again.

She found Carly and sent me off to get her.  Carly is not a purebred Chocolate Lab … but if she was “Terri this is your fault” would be her official name.

She astounds me because she is so fucking smart.  I live for smart women!

Terri listened eleventy billion times as I fell in and out of love.  We dissected each man and each relationship. She held me as I cried.  She really hated some of them.

She asked me to house sit.  I replaced every photo (and then some) with images from Awkward Family Photos.  She thought she had the wrong house.  The boys found crazy photos for months.

I left her a live fish to care for.

And a vibrator with instructions.

It’s weird but men fall out of my life when they meet Terri.  It’s either them or her.  We lovingly call her the kiss of death, but really, she’s saved me from countless assholes.  I’m just not sure Joe is ready to give her up so I can marry her.

She was the person who drove me to the train station on February 6, 2017, begging me not to go to Ottawa.

She was the person who held my hand when the sentence was delivered with 100% evidence from my Gorgeous surgeon, Dr. X on February 8th (or 9th?) … “Lisa, I’m sorry, but you have breast cancer.”  Terri never let go of my hand and listened to the words as I shifted in and out of consciousness.

We scheduled my surgery and she knew she couldn’t be there, so she reached out to people she didn’t know to make sure I was in good hands.  Some of them attacked her.  Don’t do that to my baby sister because I will never forgive you.

She took me to chemo.  She texted every day.  She made fun of me and kept my spirits up.

She asked me when was the NEXT! story on my blog.

She was there to take me to Emerg when my fever spiked.

She was there to take me home when I was discharged.

She drove my kid to work and picked him up.

She was there when I rang the bell.

She went to Scotland because she learned life is short and we need to live.

When I broke my leg and cried that I would have to cancel radiation, she shushed me and said “Let’s do this.”  And we did.  And she knows the real story.

She came to my party and took my son home.

She picked me up and took me to the hospital every day for 19 days.

She couldn’t be there for my final day.  She found a lump and had to make sure it’s ok (it is!) … but as I hit that bong, I said “I love you, Terri.”

And if the Universe said you or her?  I picked me.  Don’t fuck with my baby sister.  Through lifetimes and universes, we’ve been together.  And we will stay together until the end of time.  When you realize you have found that person who will link their pinky fingers with you and swear through eternity, you hold on.  You know their soul.  You wake up at night a thousand miles away when they have a nightmare.

She’s your sister in more ways than one.

I’d die for her.

Terri.  I love you.

Thank you.


Posted @ Pink Dot Detour

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