“That’s My Sister”
We were at the bottom of the ravine. While steep, the walk down was doable. The trail was well used. It crisscrossed its way down the side of the ravine wall. The trek was just a little over a mile in length. Being in the summer, it was quiet hot at the beginning of the descent. However, the floor of the ravine was cool and comfortable. Of course, the mist off of the water from the waterfall was wonderful. With a deep sense of reverence we stood there looking up and watching the plume of water, cascading over the rocks and crevices, falling 256 feet. “Beautiful” is a wonderful word, but it just does not seem adequate to capture the scene. Fall Creek Falls is one of the highest waterfalls in the eastern United States. Located in Fall Creek Falls State Park near Spencer, Tennessee in the heart of the Cumberland Plateau, it is a great place for an outing. It was one of our favorite places to visit.
Standing there that day with our eyes on the falls my two daughters, Rebecca and Sara, their mother, and I were taking it all in. Suddenly we heard a very loud noise. It seemed to be coming over Fall Creek Falls. It kept getting louder and louder as it seemed to be approaching us at a very high rate of speed. Suddenly, right over the crest of the falls two US Air Force fighter jets appeared; flying just above tree level at the top of the ravine. The noise was deafening, frightening as well. I turned to grab my daughters, intent on protecting them and reassuring them that it was “OK”. I planned to pull them close, hugging them and smothering them with kisses. However, what I saw startled and surprised me, almost as much as the jets. My youngest daughter (Sara, age 3) was lying on the ground, pushed down there by her sister. Lying on top of her was my oldest daughter (Rebecca, age 6). Rebecca was protecting her sister. Rebecca was too young to know and understand that the jets were simply pilots in training and that they were not a threat to harm us. However, she was old enough to know that her baby sister needed protecting and she was doing her best to cover Sara up and to keep anything from hurting her. In the moment, Rebecca did not stop to consider her own risk for harm, she only knew she was bigger than Sara and she needed to take care of her.
Needless to say, I did not know what to say or to do at that instance. I knelt down beside them, after the jets had passed and the noise subsided, in order to determine whether or not they were injured in some way. While drawing close to them I heard Rebecca saying, “It’s OK. It’s OK. You are my sister. You are OK.” With tears in my eyes and a huge lump in my throat, I drew my daughters near and hugged them as tightly as I could.
The passing of time has brought changes into my world, some are good and some are not. Rebecca is gone, certainly not forgotten. Diabetes Type #1 is cruel. Complications from trying to deal with its devastation are complex and complicated. Sara is married. Her husband is good to her. They have a son, Asher. It is fun watching him grow and learn.
I, often, spend time reflecting on my journey to the place where I am in my life. When I take advantage of the time to do so, my daughters are foremost in my thoughts. I marvel at the two of them. I ponder the trails they have followed. Both chose wonderful companions for husbands. They became exciting adults. Even though Rebecca is no longer here she is here in my thoughts and memories. Thankfully, I get to spend some meaningful times with Sara and her family. However, I must admit I also see them as a 6 year-old and a 3 year-old and heard a voice saying to each other “That’s my sister”.