I realize that I am very lucky to be close to my family. I've always loved each member unconditionally, even as a teenager. My parents are wacky and wonderful. I have an older brother and sister. They are one year and two days apart and I came five years later. I'm the baby.
When bad things happen, we band together. I mean really together. There is much love. It comes in the form of care packages, phone calls, babysitting, spending money on each other, cards, more phone calls, and lots and lots of "love yous".
We don't live in the same town. We're spread out over two hours of Interstate. But when we need each other, it just doesn't matter. We rally.
It's not overkill either. It's pure. Genuine.
The first people I call when I need help or a shoulder? My parents.
The second? The big sis.
It's amazing, to think that some people don't have this.
It's happening again. As we help my brother and his family. We grieve, we cry, we help.
While I wish that no one ever, ever had to be sick. Especially not my sweet, beautiful nephew...it makes my heart swell with pride.
I am part of a family.