Mary Therese Fajardo

The day she came home from the hospital, I was 11 years old. I had been the "only" girl until she was born. I think on some level I was not immediately receptive of this little baby, but in no time at all, I came to adore her. Our mother was disabled, and so I was the one who bathed her and fed her and walked her in the stroller and put her to bed at night, and patted her back until she fell asleep; looking back I see now that in someways my feelings for her became, perhaps more maternal, than sisterly. For the rest of her life I felt protective of her and it became a bit of a nuisance to her, I believe. She was strong & looked only to God for protection! I will miss her for the rest of my life, but my own faith tells me that she lives on & is with me still in the way that matters most.