Christina Malfer, Lindsey’s Cousin
To my beloved Steinbock Gemini twin:
As night falls, I look up past the trees, the clouds and the moon, in search of the brightest star in our shared constellation, somewhere in the northern celestial quadrant, in hopes of catching a glimpse of your light. To me it seems obvious that these are your coordinates, though, others may be wondering, “why there?”, to which I would respond, “because it’s the most wonderful place in the universe!”. But they don’t quite get it. Afterall, it’s a Gemini thing.
Anyways, remember that time, during one of many long phone calls, when you suggested that I come live in the Presley house in Denver for a while and do EMT training at the Denver Paramedic Division? It was an excellent idea, but Colorado was definitely more than 30 miles away from New York City, I was pretty sure that I could die of altitude sickness and what do you mean there’s no ocean?! Luckily, your confidence and determination alone were enough to get me and my blind dog out of the northeast and across the country. By the time it occurred to us that perhaps we let the family in on our plans, I had already applied to the program and booked a ticket.
From day one, you were so loving and supportive in the older-sister-I-never-had kind of way and cheered me on throughout, especially during challenging days. I can feel the painful laughter that erupted while watching Schitt’s Creek as you and I binged on cupcakes in between passionate conversations about medicine and politics, social justice and the perks of being a 90s kid.
I also remember the philosophical exchanges, reflecting on life and death and all that lay in between. You knew perfectly how to navigate such conversations and didn’t blink an eye when I asked what your secret recipe was for being able to embrace life so tightly and yet do so while not fearing death.
I always found comfort in you, as someone who was able to recognize and identify with another’s struggle and do so with no judgement whatsoever. I am grateful for your patience in telling me so genuinely for the thousandth time that, yes, you promise I’ll be okay even in the toughest of times. Perhaps you truly knew that more than I could have.
I will forever cherish the time we had together, reunited as adults but probably behaving like children (sorry, Aunt Aimee, about the crumbs on the couch). Your strong-hearted spirit will never fade, nor will your Lindsey-style mini pep-talks, which I still require on a weekly basis.
Thank you for inviting me into your life and welcoming me into your mother’s home (again, sorry about the dirty laundry, Aunt Aimee). Linds, you are so loved and very missed.
Until we meet again, sweet girl.