I wish she could hit me again.

The picture is our daughter, Alison, and my oldest sister, Cheryl Hamilton, when the Hamiltons arrived at our house last April.

When I was growing up, Cheryl, used to enforce her will by pounding me on top of the head. The jolt sent electric shocks right down to my heels. Then, I finally reached puberty and became strong enough to impress both of my sisters that their days of physical domination had ended. Yes, growing up third in a family of five kids was special.

Last April, Cheryl and Steve came to visit us on the day we had an "Open House" so everyone could see our new home. Cheryl's ALS was steadily robbing her of more and more physical abilities, including speech. But brothers never let sisters off the hook, so, when they pulled up in their van, I went out to greet them and asked, "How are you doing?" Cheryl smiled and nodded, indicating that she was doing well. I said, "What?" She repeated her nod, smiling more broadly. I said, "What? I can't hear you!"

That was the last time she ever hit me. On Tuesday night, March 3, at around 11:20, I was awakened by my cell phone ringing. It was Nancy, my other sister. The ALS had finally won.

Cheryl is with Jesus...completely.

For Cheryl, it is a time of joy and celebration.

Yet, even though I know her smile and beautiful voice are filling heaven at this very moment...

I wish she were here to hit me again. And I wish I could take away the emptiness that her husband and daughters are experiencing and the hurt that my parents and siblings are feeling.

Dang.