Today I got to visit with a 98 year-old woman that had great skin, but would not share the secret with me. I got to visit a couple old ladies, and they all told me that they had worked hard and were just waiting for death.
Death.
Today is my sister's birthday. She would have been 26. It's been 8 years since she has passed away. My family and friends tend to remember the day that she died. I usually get a phone call on November 20th or a couple text messages saying someone is thinking of me. In truth, I always forget the 20th. It's just another day to me. The day my sister's life ended is not the important day. The day that matters is the day that she entered my life, December 15, 1983.
It's our life on earth that matters more then how we leave this life. While we have an after life in heaven (Thanks be to God) how we remember one is by how they lived. So I often wonder why we don't remember on this day, the day she entered our lives. Or maybe we do, and no one wants to talk about it.
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