Tiny Purple Bows

I can't sleep. I laid there, well medicated, and entirely willing to sleep until the sun reached it's highest point. Yet, here I am, sitting in my car at nearly 4 a.m., watching the lighting, listening to the thunder, and watching the rain droplets fall down my windshield. Regretting that I left my mother's house tonight, and wishing I'd of stayed with her until all of this made sense. Who's to tell if I would ever be able to leave?

Regret is an awful emotion. Going through our lives there are so many different things we all regret. Things we wish we would have done and didn't, would have said, but couldn't. Our lives are built with regret.

My biggest regret is that I can't always protect everyone I love.

My daughters will get bruises. They'll feel pain. One day they'll feel the ultimate heartbreak. I won't be able to protect them. I have to understand that.

My parents and grandparents spent years protecting me, but yet I can't protect them from the moment that they will be taken from me. I can't control that.

I can't protect my significant other from losing a battle with their own heart. I can't protect them from the outside world's pressure or stress. All I can do is watch as they fall apart and give up.

I can't protect my brothers as they fight for a country they would give their own lives for. I can't protect them when they're fighting to protect my family at home. There's no way I can intervene.

There are three sisters in our family. I am the oldest. My entire life I have tried my damndest to protect them. Rescuing run aways. Fighting for them in hotels when all they wanted was out of a terrible situation. I stood in front of my sisters numerous times fighting back for what they wanted and believed in.

When we were very young, a man once tried to molest my sister while I was in another room. I didn't think twice about stopping it. I had to protect what was mine and what definitely was not his. No regrets.

Protecting the girls from abusive boyfriends, bad choices and destructive paths has always been my job.

Until recently.

That's not my job anymore. At this very moment, I have realized that I am no longer able to protect my girls. I sat in a chair tonight and watched my two sisters talk. I watched them and realized that I spent so many years watching and protecting them that I never saw that I didn't have to do it. I didn't need to protect them because somewhere through the years, they started protecting themselves. Somewhere along the way, my sisters stopped being my little sisters and became women fighting their own battles successfully on their own.

This week we say goodbye to a very important piece of our family. My sister's daughter, a sister, a granddaughter, a niece, a cousin, a friend, a beautiful soul. As we say goodbye to her, I watch my sister fight her own battle right in front of me, and for the first time in my life, I can't protect her. There's no one to pull away from her, no one to yell at or fight with, or nowhere I can take her to get her out of the situation. This is her battle. She's not alone, by any means. The entire family stands right beside her. However, the only person taking the reins and throwing the punches is going to be her.

As I sat there, staring at her, I saw her grow up right before my eyes. The years of protecting that little baby girl ended the day she stood up stronger than I ever could. The day I saw her fighting a war I knew would take my very last breath.

I regret not being able to protect my family at every moment in their lives. I regret not being able to stop heartache as I know nobody could. I regret the impossible, but still yet, all of me wishes I could. Every person I have seen this week would say they'd take the pain from her if they could. In the end, it's impossible. Her battle.

This week we will all wear purple bows. Those bows resemble a life that was taken all too quickly from a family that has spent years holding on tight when no one ever believed we could. A family that has never faltered in the hardest of moments.

My purple bow means a little more than that. It means I am not in control. The people in my family are on a huge journey of circumstances beyond their control. Beyond my control. Only now we are all tied just a little bit tighter.

Each and every one of us are now tied together by little tiny purple bows.

Each bow stronger than the next. I will leave my family today knowing that they are fighting their own battles. They will hold strong, as always, whether I'm there or not. I know that because there's nothing anyone or anything can do to break this bond between us. They never have been able to, and they never will.

Stronger than ever, we are tied together, with tiny purple bows.