Silent Expressions: A Sister’s Love Beyond Words

So many emotions are wrapped up in my sister—love, joy, pain, and longing. I loved her fiercely, though our relationship was unlike any other. Katie had Rett Syndrome, and her world was one of silent expressions—smiles lit up a room, frowns that spoke volumes, pure and uninhibited laughter, and screams that carried emotions too big for words.

She spent most of her life in a Christian home, a place where she was truly happy. She grew there in ways that amazed us. With a simple sheet of words to point to, she found a way to make her needs known. And through keyboard testing, she even recognized who we were—proving to us what we had always hoped: she understood. Every visit, she greeted us with beaming smiles, and when we hugged her, she would sometimes tap us gently on the back. It was her way of saying, I know you’re here. I love you, too.

But there was no one she loved more than our mom. Their bond was something beyond words, beyond gestures—it was written in every glance, every touch, every moment they shared. When our mom passed, something in Katie changed. She searched for her, her eyes scanning for the presence that had always been her safe place. She was happy to see me, but her laughter had lost its sparkle. The joy wasn’t the same.

I had questioned, at times, how much she truly understood. But I will never forget the day I told her that our mom was gone. In that moment, I knew—she understood everything. A shadow fell over her face, and then she broke. She sobbed in a way I had never seen before, deep, inconsolable cries that shook her fragile frame. It was as if something inside her let go, as if the very thing that had kept her holding on had vanished.

And then, just a few weeks later, she was gone too. She had fought long enough. She had waited for my mom as long as she could. And when she knew it was time, she let go.

I like to think of them together now—my mom holding her the way she always had, Katie smiling that radiant smile, finally home.