Feels like yesterday

Amy Elizabeth Blundell
My sister Amy, outside her apartment in college.

It still feels like yesterday.

I was sitting in my office, March 21, 2005, at The Belton Journal when I got a call that my sister wasn’t doing well.

She was in the hospital and expecting to have surgery the next day to have a tumor on her kidney removed.

Something had gone wrong and the doctors were calling “Code Blue.” At the time of the call I had no idea what that even meant.

I got up and went for a walk around the block, praying that whatever was happening would turn out OK.

By the time I was back at my desk the world had changed.

My sister was gone.

My friend, my partner in crime, my counselor, my confidant and more was gone.

It still feels like yesterday.

Maybe that’s why as I sat feeding my baby daughter yesterday, I half expected to look up and see my sister walk around the corner.

I half expected to hear my phone ring and see her name pop-up on the caller ID.

I still half expect to answer the doorbell’s ring and see her standing on my front porch with my boys running to greet her — just like they love to do with their Aunt K — as if she’s only been a way on a long trip.

Nine years ago seems like such a long time ago – and yet it still feels like yesterday.

We miss you Amy — always will.

Our Zambian son

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We had a dear loved one pass away recently and someone asked, “Was it family or a friend?”

I had a hard time knowing how to answer it. Technically and officially in the light of the law he was “just a friend.” But to our family members he’s so much more than that.

“Friend” just doesn’t do the relationship justice.

In the same way, calling my best friend Matt, “my best friend” or just “Matt” doesn’t really do him justice either. Which is why we always refer to him as “brother” or Uncle Matt with our boys.

Have any “friends” like that?

All that to say, while it may confuse some, my “sister” Kathryn is living and working in Zambia right now and just sent us a number of photos in an email titled, “Your Zambian son.”

That does my heart good.

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Our family has sponsored Lupiya through Family Legacy thanks to Kathryn’s work. He lives with his grandmother and several cousins in Lusaka, Zambia.

Separated by thousands of miles and yet we can still call one another family.

Isn’t it good to know that family goes far beyond anything a law, a blood relationship or even geography can define?

There’s no blood or law uniting us – it’s something much stronger – love.

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Find out more about child sponsorship through Family Legacy.

A letter to my sons

Dear HDiddy and IDiddy,

Happy 1st birthday!

It’s so hard to believe that just a year ago we were anxiously waiting on a doctor’s appointment to determine if we would actually get to see you on Oct 21, 2010 or if we’d be forced to wait till a later date.

I’m so thankful the doctor said, “let’s deliver!” because I’m not sure I could have waited much longer — and yet I was still a nervous wreck. I remember pacing the pre-op room we were in, almost certain I would pass out during your delivery. Not only was I worried for both of you and your mother but I was also scared that I wouldnt have what it takes to be the best dad for both of you — I still have those fears (I hear they never go away).

Continue reading A letter to my sons

Leaving behind a legacy

Family at Hidden Acres
Our family at Hidden Acres | Photo by Kara Blundell

Our family continues to be amazed and impressed with the impact my sister Amy has had on the lives of so many. While she never considered her life to hold much significance, she truly left behind a legacy we should all strive for.

Yesterday we took part in a dedication of the new Legacy Park at Hidden Acres Retreat Center, which features a new walking bridge that was given in Amy’s memory.
Continue reading Leaving behind a legacy