A SISTER IS WORTH A THOUSAND FRIENDS
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The other day I spent a long time writing my feelings about this sad time my family is going through. I really laid it all out there. Then, when I went to post it, POOF!, it was gone from my computer. Sigh.
I was recently thinking about the last six months or so. In October 2020, I had broke my SECOND leg in two years. What fun. Even though it was an icky time to go through, I was not sad or terribly unhappy. Grumpy, maybe, but not feeling blue. Now I am.
This is about our sister Sandy, (also known as Number Two since she was Number Two out of four sisters) or Puppet Master, because she was always telling me what to do and how to do it, and God help me, I usually did it! What a manipulator. Anyway, she has been in ill health for about three years straight. She had decided that she was going to remake herself and be the best she could be. Hip and knee replacements. Lasik surgery. Hearing aids. Extreme loss of weight. Then she began to go through some set-backs. She had a stroke and then had a little memory loss and was unbalanced.
The falling started. Her son would have to call 911 for help.
But she always bounced back. She was always cheerful and funny. And we talked almost every day. Politics was our huge addiction and we followed everything on TV. When something major would happen (which was all the time) one of us would call the other and the first thing out of our mouths was, "Yup. Saw it. I can't believe that, can you?"
During this time of the virus, Sandy's son, Rob, would bring her to see me. We would meet at my rental building because it has handicapped restrooms and that was convenient for her. She loved coming there because she said it had such happy vibes. She would bring me things to add to the decor. One item is the sign I have hanging over my desk. IF YOU CAN BE ANTHING . . . BE KIND.
On Valentine's Day, Sandy called me. Now, she is the type to call her siblings on Easter, Christmas, New Year's, all holidays and wish us the best. But this call was different. She sounded awful.
She asked me if I had experienced extreme nausea when I went through my radiation treatments. I told her no, but I was sure that her doctor could give her something for it. She was hesitant to call the doc because it was Sunday. But I knew something really different was happening to her. I told her to please hang up, call her doc and tell her that she was coming to the hospital by ambulance. Sandy said she thought maybe she might do that.
The last words I said to her were "Please keep me posted, okay?" I wish it had been, "I love you."
I didn't hear anything from her or Rob all night. The next morning Rob called me and when I questioned what they had found out, he simply said, "Well . . . " . That's when I begged him not to say what I knew was the truth. She was gone.
Sister Judy, brother Ken, and I went with Rob to the funeral home to make final decisions. We were asked if we would like to see her one last time before cremation. I chose not to. Rob told me later she looked beautiful and Judy said she had a smile on her face. When she passed, she must have seen her beloved husband, Ed, who has been gone over 25 years. That would explain the smile.
So you see why I am sad. I constantly want to call her and tell her little things. But I can't. So, I will save it all to converse with her when we meet again. Then we will both be smiling.
So, I will end this with a simple "I love you, Karen, Judy, Ken, and Evan." Nuff said!
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