Being #6

I was always content to be #6.  "The Baby".  When I was little, I loved tagging along with my older sisters and my brother, never realizing maybe they didn't - or their significant others didn't - want me along. Or thought I was a brat.  I didn't try to be.  You see, my siblings were my everything, I wanted to keep them just for me.

As I got older, they married and started their own families, nephews and nieces came along and I was so excited when each one of them were born.  They're such amazing kids and I am terrifically proud of each one  of them.  So much so that when my siblings call me by their daughters names (and each one of them does this) I am NEVER offended and never hurt for I know their children are very special to them. In fact, I'm almost honored.

As I'm getting older, they are too.  They have a decade up on me - some have close to two decades!  With the age difference, it's becoming a reality that...I... I will be the last one left.  Alone.   The only one of us to bury my parents as well as my 5 siblings.  I'm the one who will be left behind, again.  One day, it'll just be me. No one to remember the rest with.  

Sometimes I'm sad that I'll be alone.  Sometimes I'm even a little angry.  It's not  fair but, then again, what is fair?  Life isn't fair.   Car accidents aren't fair.  Multiple Sclerosis is not fair.  Dementia is not fair.  Cancer is not fair.  Life.  The thing about life is that it goes on. Life goes on.  Every. Single. Time.  It does not stop and there are no breaks. Not for #1.  Not for #6.  Not for any in between.