The whole week, while we were on holiday, I had this longing for the caregiver in our family. As we were travelling back from our sea side holiday, my thoughts wander. To my sister Erika Breytenbach. You see, those of you who are only tuning in to my blog now, may not know this, but she and her family made the choice one year ago to uproot themselves and to settle in another country.
At first I did not understand why I had this yearning and longing, especially now. But then I saw on Facebook how she shared her heart and emotions of being on the other side of the world for one year and how traumatic it actually was with the Pandemic. My heart was crying when I saw this. Then I understood, because, somewhere my brain made the connection with this time of the year and someone dying alive to me, if this makes sense at all at what I am trying to say here. With this I mean, they are still alive, but out of reach for fleshy hugs and physical contact.
I scroll by the entries fast, because I am scared that I will start crying like I did when I greeted them, what felt like 100 times in Pretoria one year ago. We did not visit each that frequently. When I was younger, yes, and before kids, for sure. At that stage we visited them more often. But then life got too busy and the Pandemic and lock down limited travels between provinces.
I call her the care giver, because she is the nurse in our family. She does not like it very much when called a nurse, because she actually is a Sister. And yes, there is a difference. Probably the same as in my career when people call me a bookkeeper when that is not what I am.
She has this ability to keep one calm. Especially in crisis situations. With our car accident 16 years ago, I trusted her more than all the doctors and nurses at the hospital. When my child sustained a head wound from jumping off a bed (with my mom being in a coma at the time), she was the one that I phoned (yes, I panicked and struck a blank as to what to do with the head wound). If a client received a diagnoses of some form, then I would turn to her to explain what is actually meant with this knowledge that we have just gained.
When my mom was in the coma and had to go in for the MRI, she was the one that was standing next to her, cool, calm and relaxed, holdig our dying mother’s hand. Not once could I detect any panic wanting to overwhelm her. I remember standing there, watching her, thinking to myself How do you do that????
I also think of her husband Jaco. How he inspired me to become a CA. Giving crash courses just before exams on how to operate a financial calculator (something I have forgotten long ago and for the life of me, still cannot operate effectively and correctly).
Well then, my dear sister and heavy (a direct translation for swaar when we actually mean swaer – and yes – go and google all the meanings and then you will connect the dots on this translation), I truly hope that your roots will settle quickly on the new soil that you find yourself on. I hear it is hard to immigrate. Mixed emotions when you decide to do something like this. I don’t know if I told you this, but one year ago, on the camp, God confirmed to me that I have to let you go.
Over and over He said this is how it must be. He even gave me a map of New Zealand on that same camp. As if He wanted me to HEAR and SEE that this is part of His plan and that I must trust the process, even if it does not make sense to me.
Love you sis. Our caregiver. Our eldest sister. The one that made slap chips (fries for those of you who do not know and understand the South-African Afrikaans slang used here) from fresh potatoes for lunch, with a white sauce made from scratch. It probably did not happen that often, but it stood out to me from growing up together.
I cried so much when you went to P.E. to go and study there (and no, I cannot type or pronounce the new name for Port Elizabeth so in my mind it will stay P.E.). Because it felt so far away. So out of reach. Little did I know that you will choose a destination even further away. Miss you. Even if we are only a Whatsapp call apart, the time zones are tricky to work around…
I am trying my utmost best to keep the fern alive that I got from you. It almost did not survive winter. But I think I have found the spot for it, where his leaves are green and soft and healthy – I am most certainly not going to move it again. It stands here right next to my computer and when I see it, I think of you. The fern that stands tall and proud on the cover photo of my blog, next to me on the desk.
Until we see each other again. And to be able to give fleshy hugs to each other. Until then I will swallow back the tears. Pretending that it is just a dream. Putting my head in the ground and making the decision to not think about it too much. Because that helps to ease the pain and longing, even if just by a little bit.
Die versorger
