On Thursday, July 30^th, 2009, my sister Chantell Monique Sanders died. We simply called her Wendy- one of those dumb family nicknames with questionable origins that stuck.  She had been sick for a few years, and the family had come close to losing her at least twice in the last four years.  The last time she went into the hospital, she didn’t come home.

It’s hard and already, I miss her lots.  But today’s post isn’t about loss; it’s about lessons.  Although my sister was two years younger than me, most folks thought she was the oldest.  That’s because of her presence.  She was no nonsense, and take charge from an early age. I learned not from what she said, but from what she did.

Make no mistake- Wendy was no saint.  She worked hard, and partied even harder, but she also loved her family and was very loyal.  Woe unto the person that crossed her or someone she loved.  She could be hell on wheels.

Wendy taught me to never apologize for who I am or where I come from.  When she walked in a room, she was her truest self.  If she was there, obviously she belonged there.  If anyone thought any differently, her attitude was “f*ck them, that’s their problem.” I adapted that attitude way later in life than she would have liked.  That was her mindset from the very beginning.

You are your sister’s keeper.  This Wendy took seriously.  And it didn’t just apply to her biological sisters.  It applied to any woman she called a friend.  Once, a friend of hers called and asked for help.  Her husband was drunk and being abusive. Wendy headed to the house- no questions asked.  When she got to the house actually let my sister in.  He began to threaten Wendy, who stood her ground and told him that if he was going to try her, he better take her down because she was not leaving without her friend and the kids. He stepped aside and let her do what she was there to do.  Nobody got hurt.  But he knew Wendy was serious.  She later maintained that she was never in any danger, but her friend and I knew differently.  That was the kind of friend my sister was.

But the most important thing that Wendy taught me was to do me.  She lived her life according to her own rules.  She wasn’t religious by any means, but always believed that she and God had an understanding.  Her God is love, and he loved her- warts and all.  She could never understand why someone would not be honest about who they are and what they want, so she didn’t have a lot of room for foolishness.  And while she might give me a hard time for being so “straight laced”, nobody else better even think about doing the same.

I was very luck to have Wendy for a sister.

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