An Open Letter of Gratitude to My Big Sister on Mother’s Day

To My Big Sister:

You know this story as well as I do: When the nurse came into the delivery room after I was born, she asked, “How many mothers does this child have?!” She counted four: my mother, my grandmother, my godmother, and you. At ten years old, you were already my caretaker, my protector, and my guide.

With a decade between us, we are — by many definitions — a generation apart. As I’ve grown up and joined you in the ranks of adults, then wives, and now mothers, our lives have come close enough to frequently converge.  And yet, there is one constant to who you’ve always been in my life, and that maternity nurse saw it right away.

You were the one who taught me how to ride a bike and how to jump from the high dive. When I was young, you brushed through my matted, curly hair and when I got older, you taught me how to blow out those same curls. As a child, I used to sit cross-legged on your comforter and watch as you flawlessly applied your make-up and slipped on your high heels (that I would secretly walk around your room in when you weren’t home). As a grown woman, I still look on in awe as you somehow manage to look so perfectly put together, regardless of whether you are getting ready to go out or go to bed. Most days, I still feel like that little girl on the foot of your bed, hoping to one day catch up.

More than that, though, I’ve watched your courage, your confidence, and your compassion. You have always been the one paving the way. You applied for college all on your own, breaking through our anxious mom’s ambivalence about letting her children move away from home. You were the one who planned a trip to Disneyworld when I was twelve because you decided I couldn’t leave childhood without the Magic Kingdom. You took on jobs that put you in charge of men twice your age, never letting anyone else set your limitations. You were the one to tell me that dad was sick; you were the one to get the strongest and most stubborn man I’ve ever known to admit he needed help. You were the one who called me when mom’s diagnosis was final. “I know,” you told me, “we just went through this. But here we are again.” You were the one who taught me to accept both my feelings and my fates. You are the one who, in the most difficult situations I face, I find myself asking: “What would you do?”

And I know I haven’t always been easy on you. When you graduated from college and wanted to explore the world for yourself, I cried on a regular basis until you came home. You were a victim of “Mom Guilt” long before you ever gave birth. You had the pressures of a mother wanting the best for me with the added burden of being my confidante — giving you all that much more to worry about. You knew the details of my jobs in inner-city schools, work I sugar-coated for our over-protective mom. I’ve given you an undue share of stress while simultaneously pushing back against your concern; I’ve sometimes placed my independence at odds with your involvement.

At the same time, I’m also sure you know already that you’ve been the punchline to more than one joke. You know, those usually reserved for mothers-in-law about panic-induced cleaning before a visit. Or the slights about your health-food fanaticism when I promise to sneak your children junk-food like prison-style contraband. But the truth is, I’ve always wanted from you what every daughter wants from a mother: for you to approve and to be proud.

Maybe this is the lot in life of the oldest sibling. I watch my son, not even five years old, bear the responsibility for his little sister’s well-being. And I appreciate the tremendous weight taken upon those tiny shoulders. And I realize I’ve always felt what I don’t always say: Thank you, and I love you.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Love,

Your Little Sister

What honorary mom are you paying tribute to this Mother’s Day??