I Hope You Dance

Michelle Kunz Main

April 28, 1975-March 17, 2009

Today is my sister Michelle's 35th Birthday. I have spent the entire day thinking about her but staying busy. But tonight, I finally gave in to the heartache. I have written several posts about her recently. Today it seems appropriate that I write another. Especially because right now, I miss her more than I can say.

The last year of Shelly's life I got to spend more time with her than ever before. After the birth of Morgan she became a part of my everyday life. I was honored to be given the responsibility and privilege of being Morgan's nanny. Because she wanted to spend as much time with him, she would come to my house every morning and nurse him while we talked about whatever had happened the night before or what news stories were new for the day. She would then come back for lunch to spend time with Morgan and nurse him again. This was my favorite time spent with her, and to be honest, I still feel like someone is missing when we sit down for lunch. After work she would again nurse Morgan sitting on my couch going over the rest of her day with me. If I was running late from the IDX run she often would wait for me to give me a hug or let me spend a little more time with Morgan.

With so much time spent together we got to talk about a lot of things. About things that were going on in our lives, our philosophies on parenting, the newest scrapbooking technique, and sadly enough her ailing health. But in these hours spent with her, I found memories that I cling to now. Things that still seem so vivid and real they could have happened just today. I not only can remember what Shelly sounded like, but I can hear her voice in my head. Not only do I remember what she was like, but I still can remember how it felt to be in her presence and can close my eyes and swear that when I open them she will be there, sitting next to me.

I often look at her picture and am shocked to think that it is my sister that has passed away. I feel as if I should be looking at a stranger or at least an acquaintance, but not my big sister. The reality is still sickening sometimes. But, it is getting better. Inch by inch the aching eases. Moment by moment the happiness in memories returns and I am able to smile for the briefest of moments without wanting to cry.

I am grateful for the things that Shelly taught me. She was one of the most accepting and patient people I have ever known. Annie said at her funeral, "She was one of the most Christlike people I knew. More so than many that you would find in church every Sunday." Shelly always pushed me to become more. She encouraged me to reach for the things that I wanted and above all to not let being scared get in the way of my dreams. All the while doing so by letting me feel the love she felt for me so strongly that I can feel it now.

Not only did Michelle teach me some of these very philosophical and big dreams, but she also taught many of the basic things you need to know in life. If my mom didn't wake up to me crying immediately, Shelly would come to my crib, give me my bottle and sing me back to sleep. She is who taught me to put myself back to sleep. Shelly taught me how to mow a lawn after I begged her to let me take over part of the lawn that was her job. She helped to teach me how to ride a bike. She taught me dance lessons for several years and she was my biggest supporter for tryouts for Drill Team, or Cheerleading, or whatever it was. Shelly taught me to scrapbook and to be honest in my journaling. She taught me the words to the Cuppycake song.

These basic lessons have also been passed on to the next generation. Just the other day I cut Ellen's peanut butter and jelly sandwich the wrong way. Instead of cutting it into four butterflies, I only cut it in half diagonally. Ella decided it was okay because she could just make a big butterfly. Her "Aunt Shelly taught me." I haven't talked with her about that since Michelle passed. I am so grateful to know that my Ellen will remember for the rest of her life that Aunt Shelly taught her how to make butterfly sandwiches.

For my graduation present Michelle bought me the LeAnn Womack CD with the song "I Hope You Dance" on it. She printed out the lyrics and had them nicely matted for me. She asked me to always dance through out my life. And at hard times I have tried to do that. Especially in the last year since she has been gone I have tried to remember those words of advice. So, Michelle, I will let the pain overtake me for tonight, but tomorrow I will once again dance at the opportunities laying before me.

Happy Birthday Sissy! I love you!