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mutual hurts and a refusal to see the vulnerability and weakness in each other marred their every interaction. I thought of all the screaming matches that started in high school, raged through college, simmered in middle age, and devolved into icy silence in their fifties. My oldest sister referred to the gorilla as her kryptonite, because she lost all of her strength in her presence.
My bravest sister put the phone on speaker and laid it next to the gorilla’s head. As soon as I heard the pain in my oldest sister’s sobbing, childlike voice, I ached for her. “I love you and I’m sorry.” I knew how hard that was for her and what strength it took for her to apologize. She forgave the gorilla and gave her permission to go in peace. Her act of courage proved that despite the corrosive words between them over the years, she had truly loved her all along – just like the rest of us.
After another hour or so, her gasping breaths grew more shallow and her once pink lips turned a pale blue. I sobbed with my bravest sister as I watched the gorilla breathe her last breath. I checked the monitors, which confirmed what I already knew. Her heart had stopped, her respirations were zero, and she no longer had a blood pressure. I leaned over to kiss her forehead and I told her I loved her. Her delicate, elegant hand turned cold in mine, and I knew she was truly gone.
Be at peace. Good-bye my sister.