childhood rituals, the fear of death, and my sister

last night i was suddenly struck by the remembrance of a ritual i had with my sister growing up. we shared a room for most of our lives--perhaps 15 years--and we would often talk before bed. we would play elaborate roleplay imagination games but that's another story.

a young, scared, religiously-saturated xx had the thought one day--what if one of us dies tonight, and some unresolved conflict from earlier never gets closure? what if we never forgive each other? what if i have to live with the knowledge that my sister died angry at me? forever?

and so, "will you" was born. "will you forgive me for anything bad i said, did, or thought about you today?" i asked one night. and she would ask me the same. and over the years, the ritual was shortened and went like this:

"will you?"

"i will if you."

"i do. will you?"

"i will if you."

"i do."

"goodnight."

"goodnight."

the last things we said to each other every night for years (excepting the usual sisterly sidetracks, giggles, addendums to earlier conversations). something that offered closure from the day. a way for us to both say, "you're my sister and i will always love you, no matter what. i've got your back. we'll always be friends and nothing can change that."

of course, something changed that. at some point we grew out of it (grew out of it? does one grow out of an unhealthy fear of conflict? does one grow out of the desire to have a smooth relationship? does one grow out of the fear of eternal damnation?). perhaps when we separated rooms, as our life duties and responsibilities adjusted to our ages. 

my sister and i are no longer close like we once were. conflict crept into our relationship over the years. we disagreed. we no longer saw the good in each other. we stopped forgiving each other. "will you" is no longer a question we end the day with--in fact, it's no longer a question we even think about. 

why?

maybe life got complicated, our heads butting over issues more complex than childish arguments and anger. maybe there are two sides to conflict. maybe we realized that hurt feelings can stick around for more than just a day. maybe we lost our innocence. maybe we realized we can both be right, from our points of view. maybe our lives are no longer lived in fear of separation, of conflict, of the regret that comes from the permanence of death. 

"will you" would no longer cover the depth of distance between her and i. maybe that's good, maybe it shows growth. maybe it's bad--putting our inner selfishness on display: "i can't forgive what she's done."

or maybe it just is.