Names of Love

I used to think it wasn't fair. Unfair for my sister to have to go through what she's been through. For what we don't even know what could be coming. Unfair for me to not get what I see others have. Someone to talk to that'll always be there. Someone to teach stuff. Someone to support, who'll in turn be there for you when they reach that age. Someone that doesn't make me feel like I'm serving as an extra parent sometimes.
And I admit, I still feel that sometimes. But you know what I've learned? I get something else that's just as amazing. Someone to teach me a new kind of patience, and care, and gentleness, and unfiltered love that might just appear once in a blue moon. The proud love that's watched her through her growth. The fierce love that protects her from anyone who doesn't care to understand. The quiet love that sits with her on the couch. The pained love that feels guilty sometimes for feeling certain ways (yes, that's love to, at least I think so. I think that one shows how much you truly do care about your sibling despite it all). The tired love that can't help but smile back when she looks my way.
I think it's okay to wonder what could've been, on occasion. I've done that myself. But remember what we get to have with our siblings. Our love is the strongest of all, having endured the smiles and tears, the pride and pain, the guilt and ferocity. All these types of love? No one gets to learn their names the way we do.
With love, Kaela