Oh, Childhood.

I was told a story last week by my cousin Karen who lives in southern Indiana, right by Kentucky. It is important to realize that I'm one of the youngest in my family, and that Karen my cousin is older than my parents. My family is so weird. I always thought she was my aunt. Anyway. At the time my sister died, everyone was up here for the funeral and stuff. Karen babysat me while my parents got things together and worked on their own grief. Karen and my mom have always been close, and I was actually named after her, we have the same middle name.

At the showing last week I was sitting in a chair not really talking to anyone (see previous post where I wonder if I should like my family more) and Karen came over to talk to me. She told me this story about how she and her husband watched me while they were in Fort Wayne back when Alex died. My entire life I've asked so many questions that it's annoying, I know it is. She was telling me I was playing and just rattling off questions like I always did. She said though, that there were three questions she'd never forget for the rest of her life. I didn't remember them, I was five years old. The first question was, would I recognize my sister when I got to heaven? I was worried that she'd grow up and I wouldn't know who she was. The second question was, would she ever get teeth? And the third question was, when I got to heaven, if I was standing in line at the water fountain and Jesus wanted a drink, should I let him cut in front of me?

Oh the things that are important to a five-year old.

Karen told me that she said I might not recognize my sister, but she would recognize me. She was unsure if she would get teeth, but she told me she would ask her pastor. And she told me I should certainly let Jesus cut me in line to get a drink of water.

The story made me laugh, but also made me want to cry.