13 years. 13 dollars. But, priceless, timeless love.

Saturday was a special day — October 15, my niece’s birthday. Thirteen years earlier, I was sitting beside my little sister in a hospital bed. She had just had her baby. A girlfriend and I stopped by the hospital with a tiny pink and purple Disney outfit. It was tiny, just like my sister’s baby girl, D. We dressed her up like a little baby doll and marveled at how perfect she was. (We were all so young then.)

Thirteen years later and we were celebrating D’s 13th birthday. A teenager. And bittersweet. All of her birthdays are bittersweet because my sister died when D was in Kindergarten. And I always wish with everything in me that she could be here to see it all.

D lives with my mother and thank God; I think my mother would have withered away after my sister’s death had she not had D to care for.

Hubby was working Saturday morning. The four kids and I headed to D’s house. Not much money in my pocket, but we were going to make it work. We stopped by the Dollar Store and bought her some balloons. Instead of buying a card, we taped dollar bills all over the balloons — 13 of them.

It was really all I had, and I wasn’t sure how she would react. You know, teenagers. I kind of imagined that she probably had a day filled with plans. When we showed up, though, the house was quiet and my mom was making her breakfast. The kids handed over the balloons and she lit up. And hugged me. Tightly.

I snapped a pic of her and my son, C. They are just five months apart. As the kids were running around, I did what I usually do when I go to my mom’s house. I looked at the pics of my sis — scattered though out the house on the fridge and on random tables.

That house is a weird place for me. It is where my sister began to die. I remember one night I laid beside her in my mom’s bed upstairs as she screamed in pain — intermittent screams of pain and confusion. She’d forget what was happening, but her body wouldn’t give her a respite from the pain. At one point, she tore her clothes off and screamed for me as the paramedics came to whisk her away. “I want my sister!” she screamed. “My sister!”

Those screams still haunt me. Chilling echoes of some of her final, painful moments in this world. And so as I looked around my mom’s house, one picture caught my eye. I took it years ago, when C and D were infants. The only thing that is missing from the second picture is my sister.

Take a look.

Back in the moment, and my niece decided she wanted to hang with us for the day and so we all hopped in the mom van and headed to McDonald’s. I had a free coupon for a McFlurry and it was totally hers. I know how to make it work on no budget at all. That afternoon, we went to Chic-Fil-A, where they give free birthday lunches.

I didn’t pay a dime for it, but she was thrilled. I thought about my sister and felt that if I could see her face, she’d be smiling. My niece opened her sandwich with ketchup in hand, and said, “Aunt Suzy. Look. It’s a heart.”

“You know why? It’s a message from your mom. She’s saying she loves you!” I said.

It was such a perfect moment. And one I never want to forget. After lunch, we went to Target, looked at some Christmas gifts and before we made it home, stopped at Publix. We picked up a Pillsbury cake — funfetti and vanilla frosting. At home, I was feeling a little nostalgic, so we turned on NetFlix and found an 80s movie — BIG with Tom Hanks.

While the lasagna was cooking and the kids were watching the movie, I started the cake. A roar from  the living room the minute I turned my back. My 13-year-old son was covering my 5-year-old’s eyes. OMG. I must have blocked that out of my then-13-year-old mind. There’s a boob scene in BIG??? Now, why’d they have to go and do that?

Nice. So there was one snag. One memorable snag.

We ended the night perfectly. Dinner, birthday cake. Each other. And my sister — who I believe somehow did see it all. That day, I counted three songs that randomly came on the radio while we were driving. They were songs from the CD I made for her funeral. Songs that I rarely hear. Special songs that helped me get through the bitterness of her early death.

13 dollars. 13 years. But timeless, priceless love.

My mom and sister. This one hangs on her refrigerator.