My sister

My sister has a learning disability, she is dyslexic. Her status updates on Facebook always make me smile, she loves her gods and believes in dog. She doesn’t have any trouble in making herself understood although at times it has led to embarrassment. She loves my blog so much that I couldn't leave it any longer to write a post about her. I toyed with the idea of asking her to write this post to illustrate the fact that jumbling up a few words doesn’t really make alot of difference in the grand scheme of things. PEOPLE would have had no trouble understanding her written words, in fact she has the gift of making PEOPLE smile when they read what she writes. I changed my mind mainly because I didn’t want to open myself up to criticism.

Some PEOPLE might think I was using her disability to make her look stupid. Some PEOPLE may think I am making fun of her or trying to make her look daft, foolish or thick. She is none of those things. I adore her, so do you think it matters to me whether she can spell or not?

My sister is a brilliant sister, she would do anything for anyone and is one of the kindest PEOPLE I know. She has as much patience as one person can have and is never busy. She is a bit of legend around here for many reasons. She helps PEOPLE who find themselves in a sticky spot and over the years has opened up her home to troubled teenagers, dysfunctional families and PEOPLE who just had nowhere else to go. So many PEOPLE are very fond of her and PEOPLE always say, I love Rita.

She has never had material wealth and it doesn’t really bother her in the slightest. She is one of lifes givers and throughout her life has consistently given more than she would ever take. She is a good listener and gives the BEST advice no matter what the situation. She is a mum of five, a sister to four, a daughter to two and an auntie to fifteen. She is a friend of too many PEOPLE to count.

When she was younger she cracked her head open and has a massive scar on her head to prove it. I remember vividly the night she came home from hospital having been stitched up. She was on the top bunk and I was on the bottom. She fell out of bed and promptly climbed back in without a sound. The next morning my mum came in to what looked like a massacre, her head had split open again and she had slept as she bled. From that day my parents always said that bump on the head did something to her brain. In a family like ours where faults and flaws are magnified by 1000 and exposed in the most brutal but funny way, this has meant that she has been subjected to her fair share of ridicule. So have we all!

Until last year my sister had never worked and devoted herself to being a mum mainly, but also to being a good friend to everyone round her. The opportunity came up for her to do some voluntary work in Headway, a charity that supports PEOPLE with brain injury. I was privilidged enough to visit the centre where she works and meet some of the PEOPLE that she works with. I came away feeling sad, humble, inspired and a little bit inadequate. But mostly I felt PROUD of my big sister. She is perfectly suited to this line of work and she is making a difference every day.

The funny thing is that as she is learning more about the PEOPLE that she works with, who despite their troubles somehow seem to just know she cares, she has realised that maybe that bump on the head did do something to her brain. She now sees herself as lucky that despite this she has managed to lead a normal life without too much difficulty. She is devoted to helping the PEOPLE she works with and they like us all, are lucky to have her.

Who cares whether she can spell or not?