By the time you are reading this, I will most probably be on
my way to my sweet sister’s funeral. When you lose someone that you have always
felt so close to, it is not easy.
My sister Bobi was my first and forever friend and losing her
feels like I have lost a part of myself. As kids she was my protector, a
childhood friend called her “the cool big sister” — even as adults she was
always trying to make things “easy” for me. We’re not kids anymore… we both
have adult children. Bobi was also blessed with grandchildren and her very
first great-grandchild.
My big sister (who always tried to tell folks that she was
the younger sister!) helped me through some dark periods in my life, so often
she knew the right thing to say and when to say it. Alright, there were times I
balked at things she said, but most times her words rang true. Since our folks
died before I was blessed with children, my sister was the one I called when I
needed advice, and maybe that’s why she always seemed to take a big interest in
my offspring’s welfare because in a small way she helped raise them.
We cried together when we lost our parents and other loved
ones. And boy did we ever laugh together… not always at the most appropriate
times. We had squabbles like most sisters do, but we never stayed angry at each
other for long. Talking to each other almost daily was like sustenance to us
and our husbands tore their hair out back when long distance calls cost per
minute.
As a writer her support was immeasurable which is why I feel
a bit frustrated that somehow, I can’t find the right words to express the hole
I feel now that she is “gone”. Fortunately, our parents raised us with a bit of
belief in an afterlife that surrounds our earth-bound selves and I sure as heck
hope that is so and that I can always feel her presence in my life. We were
five-and-a-half years apart in age but we may as well have been twins, we always
seemed to be so connected. I remember the day when my daughter, in a petty
mother-daughter disagreement, heard my sister comment on it and my daughter
exclaimed, “There’s TWO of them!”… and now there is just me.
They say that losing a sibling is a different kind of grief.
You lose someone who has known you all, or almost all, of your life. If your
parents are already deceased, losing a sibling means losing another vital part
of your “elementary family” and takes away a piece of your childhood. Your
childhood memories are now only thoughts in your own mind, there’s no more
sharing of childhood secrets and adventures. Burying a sibling is also burying a
hunk of your life.
I am going to choose to remember all of the good times, maybe
pick up a long-ago abandoned diary and record those memories that we shared. I
will do my best to speak of her to her children and future generations for as
long as I am here. And when I close my eyes I hope to picture her in my mind
and hear her voice when I am lonely. I will always look up and tell her how
much I love her.
September 5, 1948 – June 20, 2021
