#lifesjourney

THE IN-BETWEEN

/ stella elaine / Leave a comment

I have been I guess what some people would say “out of pocket” with my writing for the last few months.  I have actually written quite a bit, but just could not pull it together to post.  And as always, I’ve had a lot I wanted to say.  However, most of the conversations have been internal.  I could not seem to bring myself to put my thoughts to paper.  Some days, I had all intentions, but like anyone else, I can find a number of excuses not to make or find the time. With that said…….I’m Back.  

Have you ever gone through a phase where you just feel out of sorts?   I guess the fancy word for it would be discombobulated.  You just can’t get your bearings.  For me, I can’t put my finger on one single event, but more so numerous events or experiences that have had me feeling this way.  I would dare say we have all experienced this unsettled frame of mind from time to time.  It’s nothing to fear or be troubled about, but I believe we grow as a person during these times.  Google photos, on a regular basis, will send photo highlights from my past.  Recently, a photo memory showed up of me from four years ago.  I took a moment, and really looked at that picture.  I thought to myself…”that girl had no idea what lay ahead.”  There is birth, life, and death.  Death had knocked on the door of my loved one since that photo was taken.  Hell…death had knocked the door off the hinges.  Birth and death are two of the major events in anyone’s life, but at almost 51 years of age, I have learned……..it’s the In-Between where the meat of anyone’s life journey happens.  Moments that will make you.  Moments that you feel certain will break you.  Moments that will bring you to your knees, and times that will bring you the greatest joy.  The past few years in my life have consisted of ups, downs, heartbreak, frustration, and disappointment.  Basically, just living life and experiencing all that life entails.  So….. 51 years on this earth, what has me unsettled?  What has me reflecting within myself?  What has me centered and focused?  Let’s talk about where we are in our “in-between.”

My sister passed away about a year and a half ago.  If you have read any of my previous posts, you might have somewhat of an understanding of what she meant to me, and how close we were.  To say I was devastated by her loss would be an understatement.  I have finally reached a point in my grief journey that I can talk about her, and not break down in tears.  That is not to say there are not moments when her absence does overwhelm me.  Moments when I want to talk to her so badly.  Especially when I want to tell her about the latest antics of our mother or how proud I am of her youngest son who recently graduated high school.  His graduation was extremely hard for me.  One of those bittersweet moments in life.  So proud of the fine young man my nephew has grown into, and brokenhearted that his mother was not there to cheer her baby on.  I have finally accepted that I was blessed beyond measure to have had her in my life for 44 years.  

I am on the cusp of transitioning to the next phase of motherhood.  My oldest is out of the house and making his way in the world.  My youngest is halfway through high school, and stretching his wings.  No one will be more ecstatic than when he graduates.  I have threatened to moon walk across the stage when he received his diploma!  No more teacher conferences, emails, voicemails, staying on him to keep those grades up, and on and on.  The youngest has been wanting to be grown since he was three years old.  I remember when he was three years old,  my husband and I noticed he had a cut on his chin.  At first he wouldn’t tell us how he cut his chin.  Eventually, he fessed up to using his big brother’s razor (his brother is 10 plus years older).  Nowadays, he talks about how he can’t wait until he can grow a full beard.  He recently started his first job, and is also now driving.  That driving is a big pill to swallow.  Not that I worry about his driving, but those crazy drivers I see on the road every day. The ones that cut you off, make you cringe, and keep you in prayer that you make it home safe and sound.  I find myself thinking my babies were not babies long, but I still remember those long days and nights when it seemed I would never get a moment for myself. I remember mornings when I didn’t think I would get us all ready and out the door to school and work.  Evenings when the piles of laundry were screaming to be washed or folded.  The saying the days are long, but the years are short have never been more true.  

I took Friday off a couple of weeks ago.  I had planned to get my hair colored (y’all know I am from the South so I often write how I speak).  I had been bluntly informed days before by a long time coworker that it was time to cover up my gray.  I responded that I did not wear wigs like her so she would just have to tolerate it a few more days.  Don’t you just love those co-workers that treat you like family.  No holding back.  Anyway, my hair appointment had to be rescheduled so I had the oil changed in my car (and you can bet that was overdue too).  It had been in the back of my mind to visit with one of the ladies in my church who had recently been diagnosed with cancer.  Friday ended up being a good day to visit.  She was feeling up to company.  I went through Wendy’s drive-thru to order some Frostys.  Ms. V’s daughter had told me she would enjoy that as her appetite had thankfully returned.   I picked up another lady from my church on my way, and off we went to pay a visit.  Eating our Frostys on our way.  I go to a small country church where the majority of the members are at least 70 years of age or older.  There are a few of us in the early 50’s range.  We are all at a point in our life where the rat race is no longer part of our journey.  We enjoy each other’s company, and truly care about one another.   So…back to Ms. V as I will refer to her.  I met her several years ago at church.  She was always friendly and welcoming.  When she found out my sister had been diagnosed with cancer, she would  faithfully send encouraging cards to her.  My sister would often tell me she had received the sweetest card from Ms. V.  Ms. V, just like my sister, was the picture of health at the time of her diagnosis.  Cancer is one of life’s biggest sucker punches.  It can pop up like a thief in the night.   So on that Friday we found Ms. V. having a good day, and in good spirits.  I was so afraid it would be doom and gloom, and I would break down in tears.  As I have gotten older, and been through some emotionally hard times, I have become extremely tender hearted.   I know the heartache cancer and life in general can bring.  However, our visit was spent talking about our lives, and she said she had had a good one.  She was in a funk for about the first month after she got her bad news.  She didn’t care about anything, but eventually the dark cloud of her diagnosis lifted.  She said she now just takes one day at a time.  And you know what?  That is all any of us can do.  At my age, I’ve realized that something is going to get each and every one of us.  We can run marathons, eat healthy, do what the doctor says, etc., but don’t get so focused on NOT dying that you forget to LIVE.  I am beyond grateful for the people, often unexpected, that have come into my life along the way.  It’s often in these casual interactions and conversations that you truly learn about life.  

The in-between……seems like such a minimizing description of our life span.  So much happens between our birth and death.  The best advice I can give anyone is to let go of how you think your life will be.  I promise you.  Your life, most likely, will not go as you plan.  Go with the flow.  Love hard with everything you’ve got.  Embrace the quiet moments. The moments of solitude.   Look for joyful interactions with people. I have had some of the most pleasant conversations with people in the grocery store.  Smile.  Say hello.   Brace yourself for the roller coaster that you will sometimes find yourself on.  Push through the chaos that life can bring.  I can attest that I have survived every tough day life has thrown my way, and there have been some hard ones.  Learn to be comfortable with yourself.  Be open to change.  Don’t get stuck on the hamster wheel just going through the daily grind.   You never know when your life will change for the better or worse.   Just know that it will all be ok.  Every day will not be sunshine and roses, but the next one might.  Accept that you will have years of dirty dishes, piled up laundry, grocery lists, school projects, and days where you have no idea how you will get it all done.  LIFE IS ONE BIG BEAUTIFUL MESS.  We make such a big deal about birth and death, but to me it’s the thriving in the in-between where it’s at. 

With all this said, I am going to close with this one final thought……

Your Life is Made of Two Dates

And A Dash.

Make the Most of the Dash.

Love to all,

Stella Elaine

Heartbreak

/ stella elaine / 2 Comments

Heartbreak was not my intended topic this week, but sometimes you wake up with something completely different weighing on your mind.  I woke up Monday morning, and like I do most weekday mornings, I tuned into a local morning talk show.  It’s my way of easing into the day.  This morning show was different.  I knew right away something was off.  The host was somewhat baring his soul.  Some form of heartbreak was taking place in his life.  He stated that he and his family needed prayer, and he would be taking a break from the show.  I have no idea what the cause of heartbreak is that had him expressing real and raw emotion.  There are so many layers to heartbreak and grief.  It’s different for all of us, but any of us who have experience with it, know it when we see and hear it.  Heartbreak comes to us all at some point in our lives, and more than likely will rear its ugly head when we least expect it.  It will leave you battle scarred, but it also makes us more sympathetic  and caring human beings.

My first experiences with heartbreak came at an early age.   I was almost six years of age when my parents divorced.  My relationship with my father was from then on fractured at best.  Heartbreak and grief do not always stem from a death.  They can be brought on by situations that are beyond our control. Then I lost my paternal grandfather when I was 12.  By that age my mother had pretty much cut off all contact with my Dad and his family.  I was not allowed to even attend his funeral.  Poof…. people I loved were taken out of my life.  I tucked the hurt in the deepest crevices of my heart.  My maternal grandfather died when I was 23 years old.  That was my first up close and personal experience with cancer, and it’s devastating effects.  I could be brought to tears just thinking about it years after he passed.  Later on, the deaths of my Dad and sister affected me differently.  My Dad’s death left me with unanswered questions and unresolved feelings that I ultimately came to terms with..  My sister’s terminal illness and death left me with immense grief and an understanding of loss that I had never experienced before.  It has also left me feeling as if I had lost my bearings. I am still trying to work my way through that path of grief.

There are countless sources of heartbreak.  It can be death of a loved one or friend, loss of a dream and the process of letting go, betrayal by a loved one, the end of a relationship or friendship, terminal illness, a loved ones bad choices, disappointment, losing your home to a natural disaster, and the list can go on and on. Heartbreak can be walking around right in front of us.  A drug addicted or mentally ill family member can break your heart a million times.  It can often be the equivalent of watching someone dying in slow motion.  Then, you see so many children being neglected by their drug addicted, mentally ill, and neglectful parents.  You think to yourself.  Where does it end?  None of us are exempt.  Heartbreak is an equal opportunist.  We are better for our struggles or we should be.  When I say I understand, it may not entail an understanding of your particular situation, however, heartbreak is heartbreak.  If it is enough to make you cry, make you feel like you’ve been sucker punched, want to curl up in bed and pull the covers over your head,  and that the rug has been pulled out from underneath you, I understand.  Right now I have scars from previous heartbreaks,  and I have a large scab from a recent heartbreak.  Just like any scab, you think it’s healing, and you might pick at it.  It still bleeds.  More time needed for the healing.  One day those scabs will turn into scars.  Some are visible and others are naked to the eye, but there all the same.  

As I have discussed in previous posts, my most recent heartbreak occurred towards the end of last year.  It didn’t happen suddenly.  It was in the making for over two years as I watched my sister battle cancer like the fiercest warrior.  The past few months I have taken each day as it comes.  There have been good days, and there have been days when I really have to dig deep.  I am not the same person I used to be nor will I ever be again.  I am a walking example of heartbreak, and the metamorphosis that follows.  Someone told me the other day that I did not seem happy.  My response was “for the most part, I’m not.”  I am in transition.  Trying to find my bearings again.  Recalibrating.  Doing a lot of inner reflection.  Deciding for me what truly matters.  I am growing and evolving.  Continually trying to process one of the greatest heartbreaks of my life.  I am letting go of how I thought the next chapter of my life would be.  Who would be by my side.  At some point, the hurt will ease and not be as strong as it once was.  One day, I will tuck that hurt in another crevice of my heart along with the others from so many years ago.  I will find happiness again and my sense of humor that has always served me well.

Throughout this transformation, I will become stronger and more resilient.  I will continue to love my family and friends with the same intensity I always have, if not more.  Heartbreak makes you acutely aware of what can be lost.  Cling to each other, love one another, take deep breaths, indulge in moments of reprieve from this frenetic world.  Live a purposeful life and be a better person because of the heartaches you have not only endured, but survived.  Heartbreak in this life is inevitable, but so are moments of joy.  As the saying goes, “you have to take the good with the bad.”  Take one day at a time.  Know that there will be good and bad days as you process and wrap your head around what has happened or is presently going on in your life.  Be empathetic and compassionate when you can.  Exude love.  This world could use a lot more of it.  Most of all, take time to love yourself.

All the best,

Stella Elaine

Forever 44 and the Love She Left Behind

/ stella elaine / Leave a comment

I knew this day would come.  It has been a special day in my life since 1976.  I received a special delivery, and my world was forever changed for the better.  I had prayed for that day to come, and it did.  From that day forward I was a big sister.  Today is my sister’s birthday.  She would have been 45.  Never in a million years would I have imagined that we would not grow old together.  We would not take more road trips together. We would not talk or text each other at least once a day.  I think about all the what might have beens, but all I have to hold onto is what we did have and the memories.  Forty-four years of ups, downs, joy, heartbreak, frustration, and boundless love.  We had forged through those times with fierce determination and a healthy sense of humor.   I can’t think of a birthday where we weren’t together or at a minimum spoke on the phone.  If we spoke on the phone, we were making plans as to when we would get together, what we would do to celebrate, and most of all, where we would go eat.  We have so many good memories.  Now, my sister is gone.  She passed away in November of last year.  I did not see the signs this time last year, but now looking back at our daily texts and pictures and recalling our daily conversations, my sister had begun the last leg of her journey. She had put up a tenacious fight, but she was growing weary of her arduous cancer battle.  

The first five years of my life I was an only child, as my sister would be my only sibling.  We were a pair from the time she showed up on the scene, and formed a bond that siblings can only dream of having.  The commonality of our life experience is what made us closer.  There was never jealousy or competition between us. If one of us was happy or sad so was the other.  We had battles ahead of us, and we would face them together.  Our parents divorced when I was almost six and she was about nine months old.  That was the beginning of our life with a mentally ill mother.  Another story or even a book for another time.  My sister and I throughout our life have been surrounded by loving and caring family members, as you will gather in my last blog post, “Granddaughter of the Greatest Generation.” Birthdays were always a happy time with cake, ice cream, gifts, family, and most often friends. 

A life well lived is what my sister had.  She was cute as a button when she was a small child. Our grandmother often called her “Sunshine,” and sing the song “You are My Sunshine” to her.  I’m sure the song was a favorite of my grandmother as it was a popular song during her younger years.  I was never jealous of her being called that because she was our Sunshine.   I, myself, sang it many nights to my boys rocking them to sleep.  My sister would kill me for telling this, but I often teased her about her “Buster Brown” haircut.  It had suited her to a T.  She was the most happy go lucky child.  She was even that way as an adult.  I know she had some down moments, but for the most part she was always positive, and  went with the flow.  We were side by side from the time she was born.  I was her protector.  I think the biggest disagreement we had as children was when I could not watch “The Incredible Hulk” because the Hulk scared her.  She would have bad dreams.  Needless to say, I got over it.  Later on during her countless hospitalizations and times of being homebound, I would be with her, and we would watch Food Network cooking shows.  Here she was, could not eat any real food, and we were watching Bobby Flay throw down in the kitchen.  Lots of irony in this thing we call life. 

My sister met her future husband in their senior year of high school, and they married the December after they graduated.  She hit the ground running with married life. She and her husband worked hard to build a life together.  She had two handsome sons who she doted on, and loved with all her being.  It breaks my heart to know that she will not be here to see her youngest son graduate from high school.  My sister loved children, and cared for her nephews and niece like they were her own.  We always thought it was ironic that she and I had sons, and had only grown up around girls.  Our grandfather, we knew deep down,  had wanted grandsons, but ended up with four grandgirls. He took us four grandgirls in stride, and taught us so much. To this day, I can hammer a nail like it’s nobody’s business.  My sister and I often talked about how proud our granddaddy would have been of our boys.  He had only lived long enough to see my oldest son.  I still remember the proud smile on his face when seeing my son for the first time.   One of my sister’s biggest regrets with her cancer diagnosis was that more than likely she would not live to see her grandchildren.  We had talked so many times about our grandparents, and what they meant to us. They had been excellent role models to us, and we hoped to live up to their example of what grandparents should be.

My sister leaves behind a husband, two sons, our mom, me and my family, her husband’s family, cousins, and a slew of friends.  The love she bestowed on those in her circle was boundless, and even overflowed to her precious fur babies.  I remember she had just been diagnosed with her colon cancer, and someone dropped three kittens off in her front yard.  I told her…”Mendy…now is not the time to take on more animals.”  I know I couldn’t have.  A cancer diagnosis is a large pill to swallow.  During her two plus years of battling cancer she had three dogs and three cats. However, on the days where she was home by herself, her furry companions provided true companionship for her.  Two of her dogs had to be put down during that time, and of all things, one of them had to be put down due to cancer.  Her favorite dog, Oscar (still living) was by her side constantly during her battle.  When the final days were at hand, he was right by her side.  Dogs know.  My husband and I also had to put down our dog of 10 years due to cancer.  To me, it was about too much. Our vet gave us options which were costly and not guaranteed.  I was trying day by day to process my sister’s diagnosis, and the fight for her life that ensued. My sister came first.  My focus was on my sister, but my sister was an animal lover from way back.  I think she was hooked when our cat growing up had kittens in her bedroom closet.  In another life or if given the opportunity in this life, she would have made one heck of a veterinarian.  That’s how life is.  No fairness at times.  You just get up each day, and give it all you’ve got.   You realize no matter what we dream or hope for, your path can go in directions you never imagined.  Some of those paths will be hard.  Very hard.

Not only was my sister tight with her family, she was surrounded by what I would call a posse of girlfriends.  They often got together at each other’s houses to grill out or for lasagne.  They might go out to eat somewhere that featured trivia night.  One of her special friends arranged to have butterflies released at my sister’s graveside during her final rites.  My sister loved butterflies, and it was a loving final gesture of her friend.   She was also loved by her co-workers from the jobs she had held over the years.  They were part of her circle, and they loved her as much as she loved them.  

We none know the timeline of our lives.  I think we all just assume we have forever, and there will always be another tomorrow.  I hate to break it to you, but we don’t have forever, and our lives can change on a dime.  Michael Landon, who played the role of Pa (Charles Ingalls) on Little House on the Prairie, was a favorite of mine.  He was diagnosed years ago at the age of 54 with pancreatic cancer.  He was quoted at the time saying “Somebody should tell us, right at the start of our lives, that we are dying.  Then we might live life to the limit, every minute of every day.  Do it! I say.  Whatever you want to do, do it now!  There are only so many tomorrows.”  It’s sad that it takes a terminal diagnosis for any of us to realize the true value of living a purposeful and fulfilling life.  It’s almost like a wake up call.  You better get with it.  The clock is ticking!! Life is unyielding.  There are days when this life will kick you in the teeth, and sometimes repeatedly.  Do your dangdest (disclosure if you haven’t figured it out– I’m Southern) to fill your life with love, happiness, hard work, and determination.  Give it all you’ve got.   I remember losing my grandfather when I was in my 20’s.  It was a devastating loss.  He had played such a consequential role in my life.  My grandmother passed away at the age of 88.  Fourteen years after my grandfather. She too, had a remarkable impact on my life, but I had watched her decline, and her quality of life deteriorate.  She was give out, as people say, and ready to go on to her reward.  I had peace about that.  She had lived a full life, and given all of herself that she had to give. Love, time, patience, and guidance.

Coming to terms with the passing of my sister is a journey.  I was going to say “has been a journey,” but I still struggle day to day knowing that she is not coming back.  Some days are better than others.    There are days when I think..”I need to call my sister.” but knowing I can’t will bring tears to my eyes.  Time does lessen the pain of losing her, but it never completely goes away.  I hold onto the quote from Lord Tennyson’s poem “In Memorium 16.”  “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”  I am beyond grateful for the years I had with my sister.  My life and the lives of so many others are richer because of the time my sister spent on this earth.  She has left a tremendous void, but the love she has left behind will carry us all through.  She will not grow old with me as I just assumed she would.  She is forever 44.

Happy Birthday Sunshine.

I Woke Up Different That Day

/ stella elaine / Leave a comment

I woke up different that day.  I had received a call in the early morning hours, and then cried myself back to sleep.  It was a call I had known for a while that would come.  No matter how prepared you think you are, you will never be ready for that call.  I got up knowing what needed to be done.  I had an hour’s drive ahead of me.  A conversation that would have to take place.  Plans that would need to be made.  I got ready while in a state of shock and disbelief.  I could not wrap my head around what my loved ones and I had been through, and what the next few days would bring for all of us.  All I wanted to do was get back in bed, and pull the covers over my head.  As the lyrics to Ray Price’s song now rang so true …..”Make the world go away.”  

I have always been partial to traveling rural highways as opposed to the ever busy interstate.  The slow and steady pace is more my speed. Slowly driving along to take the countryside in.  Maybe stop at a roadside stand selling farm fresh tomatoes, and buying some boiled peanuts for the road.  Watching the farmers till the land that would put food on our tables.  Looking at all the old farm homesteads.  Beautiful old houses that had been filled with loving and hardworking families so many years ago.  Now just faded memories filled those walls.   My grandfather had been the one to teach me how to drive.  He always put me behind the wheel whether driving on the interstate or on the slower paced back roads.  I didn’t know it at the time, but so many of the things he taught me was to prepare me for a world I would live in when he was gone.  People driving on the interstate are always in such a rush to get where they are going. I was in no rush that day.  I had traveled these roads so many times growing up and as an adult.  I could probably make the trip in my sleep.  I drove along.  Playing all my favorite old country songs.  Merle Haggard…”Going Where the Lonely Go.”  I drove along as if in a time warp.  Time stood still.  The drive I had made so many times seemed to go on forever.  Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I wished it would.  Forever stuck in that moment, and not having to confront what lay ahead.

A little more than halfway to my destination, on the outskirts of a small country town, I spotted the two graves that I always take notice of when traveling this rural road.  So close to the side of this rural highway.  I have often thought to stop, look at the dates and names of the two individuals that are resting there in peace.  At least, I hope in peace.  So near the side of the road.  What were the circumstances of their death?  Did their loved ones feel the immense void at their death that I now felt?  Why were they buried on the side of the road?  Mental note to research how long this rural highway had been in use, and possibly dig up the story behind the demise of these two souls.  I’m curious like that.

I remember being almost to where I was going when I saw the most beautiful field of sunflowers.  It was almost the middle of November, but it did not strike me as odd for sunflowers to be in full bloom that time of year.  Seeing those sunflowers standing tall gave me inspiration that I had been looking for.  My sister had always loved sunflowers.  She would have loved seeing this field full of her favorite flower.

I drove on.  Ever nearing my final destination.  My time on the highway time warp was coming to an end.  I pulled up at my mother’s home.  Got out of my car.  My legs felt like concrete.  It was all I could do to sit down on the sofa.  Trying to figure out how to say what I was there to say.  Of course, my preference is to always be direct and straightforward.  No need to sugar coat the cold hard heartbreaking truth.  I was there to tell my mother that her youngest daughter and my only sister was dead.  I sat there trying to be strong.  Hold it all together.  I wanted to scream my head off.  Punch a hole in the wall.  Raw grief that can only subside with time.  But….I had to hold it together for my mother.  I had to be strong because I was in no shape to deal with her.  For over two years, I had been by my sister’s side as she fought cancer.  I had been filling the gap for our mother while first and foremost being there as her sister. There are people that hit life head on.  Take what life throws at them. Push through the hard times.  People that do the heavy lifting that this world demands, and there are those that rely on those types of people.  Our mother is not one of the heavy lifter types, and I have come to terms with that.  That is a story for another time. I would have been by my sister’s side regardless.  I had watched how cancer, multiple surgeries, numerous hospitalizations, and chemotherapy slowly ate away at her body and strength.  However, cancer never stole her spirit, tenacity, and love of life. My beautiful and full of life baby sister.  

Circling back to the field of sunflowers I saw on the way to my mother’s house.  When I went into my mother’s house, and sat on the sofa, the first thing I really noticed was a ceramic vase with sunflowers on her table.  That was my moment of confirmation.  I had my answer.  My brother-in-law had called me again sometime in the early morning once I was on the road to the town my mother and sister lived in.  He had given me a run down of what we needed to do that day.  One thing he had said was that he wanted my mom and I to pick out the spray for my sister’s casket.  At the moment, I was still numb, and could not even believe that we were having this conversation.  I remember thinking at the time that roses were beautiful, but really would not do justice to the beautiful vibrant woman my sister had been.  Her spray would have sunflowers, day lilies, and  greenery with butterflies inserted.  She loved butterflies and sunflowers.  Ladybugs and day lilies were my favorites.

I had known this day was inevitable. I remember being so angry with my mother when she had called me one day on my lunch break from work a few months before my sister passed to tell me we needed to start thinking about what we would wear to my sister’s funeral. I had had the same thoughts, but never in a million years would I have verbalized them.  To verbalize was to make this nightmare a reality.  An inevitable part of my sister’s cancer journey.  Yet here my mom and I were, my sister barely cold, and we were having to find appropriate clothes because that’s just what you do.  Thankfully, most funerals are not as formal as they once were.  Men in full suits.  Ladies in black dresses and black shoes with stockings.  My sister and I were never ones to wear dresses.  You will be hard to find many pictures with us wearing dresses as grown women.  Now…the two of us as little girls with a grandmother that loved to dress us up is another story.  Eventually, my mother and I found outfits that we were satisfied with.  I knew the next day would involve taking my husband and our two sons shopping.  I would make sure they would be dressed to make  my sister proud.  They would end up wearing khakis, white dress shirts, and matching purple ties.  I wore a purple blouse.  Purple was one of my sister’s favorite colors.  Until that afternoon at the funeral home, I had not even thought about what my sister would wear.  Thankfully, one of her friends had picked out an outfit that was perfect.  My brain was on auto-pilot, but yet in a fog.  I know my sister’s husband and sons were the same way.  To have people step in, and help means the world. 

My brother-in-law called me when their preacher stopped by the house to discuss Mendy’s funeral.  He wanted to speak to her family.  To hear our memories.  To make my sister real at her funeral.  To tell of the love she had for her family, friends, and fur babies.  We all stood in the kitchen.  Some seated. I was standing.  Trying to hold it together.  That preacher did not have enough time for me to tell him of the memories I had of my sister.  Forty-four years as my baby sister.  How do you condense that down to a few words that would ever do justice to her?  How I, as a five year old,  playing on our front porch with all my Little Golden Books spread out on the porch (my love of books started at a very early age), and I remember praying to God.  “Please send me a little sister.”  And..he did.  She would be my only sibling.  Would this preacher be able to comprehend the bond that my sister and I had?   We had been through so many trying times together.  So many shared experiences and memories.  We were different, but yet so much alike.  Would this preacher be able to convey what a wonderful wife, mother, sister, daughter, aunt, and  friend she was?  He would be able to say in all honesty that my sister had left a legacy of love.  

We all somehow made it through visitation.  Now the funeral.  I got up that morning.  Ironed the clothes that me and my guys (my husband and sons) would wear.  I had been so busy the past few days.  Just doing what had to be done.  I remember feeling like I had been hit by a ton of bricks.  I was in the kitchen, and had a picture of my sister, mom, and I in my hand.  I told my husband that I needed to take some pictures with me to the funeral.  I don’t know if I thought I would display them or what.  I felt the tenuous binds holding me together coming undone.  I remember breaking down.  Screaming that my sister was gone.  How could this have happened?!  My little sister was gone.  No more daily phone calls.  Talking about our boys.  She also has two sons. She was going to miss her youngest son’s high school graduation.  She would miss seeing grandbabies.  She loved children. Talking about our husbands.  Sharing the latest shenanigans that our mother was up to.  Planning a road trip that we would take when she was well.  We had always been in the same book, same chapter, and in the same sentence.   All of it was gone.  I pulled myself together.  As I have always done.  I needed to be strong for our mom, my guys, and  Mendy’s guys.

Mendy’s funeral was beautiful.  The flowers, her in her casket with the beautiful spray, and the video which showed the life she had built with love and happiness.  Family and friends gathered to say one final goodbye to her.  Butterflies, another favorite of hers, were released at her graveside service.  

The road of life we all travel has many hills, valleys, curves, and rough patches.  Sometimes the road can have a pure blow out.  There can be the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.  Along the way, if we’re lucky we also experience immense love.  The part of my life’s journey that had me walking with my sister during her cancer battle brought sadness, desperation, frustration, fear, hope, denial, acceptance, and ultimately a truer understanding of how fleeting life can be. You’ve got to love hard because in the end love is all you have.

I woke up contrary to any way I had ever known the day my sister died. My vision of the world had been dimmed, and only time would slowly bring color back into my world.  Robert Frost’s poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay” truly speaks to me.  My sister was solid gold.