Getting to the Finish Line

My baby sister, Alanna, died many years ago. Almost eighteen years ago this year. I do not dream of her often, but when I do, the dreams are vivid and meaningful.

Here is one of my dreams about her:

. . . We were at some neighborhood carnival. We were part of some marathon race. We had to run around the block (which in my dream had felt like a long stretch of distance). Along the race, there were many weather changes. Parts of the race were tumultuous, and the skies had become dark and ominous. At one point in the race, we had to break into a house to take shelter from the rain that came beating down from the skies. At other parts of the race, the weather was bright and sunny. Along the way, there were different people that had joined along in our run, and some people stayed and ran with us for awhile, and as we ran further and further towards our unknown destination, many of the people that had joined us for our run had eventually disappeared. There was a steady flow of people coming and going in our race. Many of the faces seemed familiar to me, and at some points, Alanna and I would stop and chat with some people. But eventually, we would resume running. Our legs never seemed to tire, and even at times when it seemed as if bad elements were chasing us, we would continue running at the same pace. She was always a few steps ahead of me, however, and although she and I never exchanged any words to each other in my dream, she would sometimes look back at me and smile.

As the end of the race loomed closer, I had felt anxiety and pain in my heart. It was as if I knew that the end of the race would bring the end of the time that I would have with my sister. She had begun to run faster and further away from me, and I remember that in my dream I was telling her to slow down. She kept running faster and I kept falling further and further behind. She finished the race way ahead of me, and I remember her looking back as she crossed the finish line and she had smiled at me. After she crossed the line, she kept running and because I was so far behind, I could not see to where she had run… I was unable to follow her…

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Our lives are like a marathon race. We are always moving, running and working to keep our lives going. Eventually there is a finish line, but the race to the end has its ups and downs, twists and turns and good and bad elements. It is inevitable that the people that run with us along the way will either fall behind or run past us and leave us in the dust. I take comfort in the knowledge that although Alanna crossed the finish line before I did, she finished happy, and I know that eventually I, too, will cross the finish line, and she will already be there at the finish line cheering for me.

Circa 1999 | My sister after surgery to remove tumors from liposarcoma