On losing a sibling

My sister Wendy passed away two days ago. She had been struggling with health issues for about a year, in and out of hospitals, in and out of pain, discouragement, frustration, anger and sometimes hopefulness. I don’t even know everything she experienced except I know she wanted out. She was bedridden the last several months, subject to humiliating and miserable conditions that none of us could change. Her husband of thirty plus years cared for her day and night, running himself ragged quickly becoming her one and only hero. She counted on him for everything but her breath, and weeks before she died, except for her times in the hospital, she counted on him even for that.

Her daughter, who lives out of state, went to see her a few weeks ago. She’s still there now. I went for a week and just came back on Friday, three days before she passed. I visited her in the hospital daily. The first time I saw her all I could think was, this is not my sister! Not the sister I remember. It made me so sad to see her that way. Most of the time she was lucid then she would come up with a bizarre statement like, “You know the clock on the wall? (the one in her hospital room) Do you know that it has daytime numbers and nighttime numbers? They move around.” I smiled and told her maybe it was just that clock.

We reminisced as much as we could given her occasional lack of lucidity, or just her need for sleep. The last visit I had with her we all said our usual goodbyes and I love yous because we fully expected to see her again. When I was just outside her door she yelled, “I love you, Bara Boo!” That was her nickname for me but she had not called me that during the whole time I was down there. Her voice was different as she said it. She sounded just like her old self, strong and healthy. Something inside me stirred. I had an uneasy feeling that it was the last time we would speak. It was.

My niece called me as my sister was passing and allowed me to speak to her one last time. She could not answer me but my niece said she could tell that my sister heard and understood what I was saying. It was a hard day for all of us.

Not having any other siblings and having lost both parents, I am now the sole survivor of my immediate family. It feels strange and sad. I can no longer talk to anyone about the good old days or ask family questions.

My sister was my best friend. She knew me better than anyone. She accepted me for who I was and loved me dearly. When we were young, I wanted to be just like her. I tried to dress like her, despite our eight year age gap. I idolized her. Every so often she would clean out her jewelry box or closet and I would get her hand me downs. I remember trying on her fancy dresses and stuffing the strapless gowns with tissue where normal breasts would go. I loved playing dress up in her clothes.

After I graduated from High School and started working I went to visit her in Florida. She was going through a rough divorce at the time so I went down there to babysit her kids for the summer while she worked. Soon we were both working. For fun we would go out dancing together. We started going out 3-4 times per week, coming home late then getting up early to go to work. The routine would start over come nighttime. Once at our usual dance club, a young man asked me to dance. He asked my name and when I told him he said he had just been in the men’s room and some guy had walked in and with great enthusiasm said, “Guess what? Wendy and Sarah are here!” So many memories. So many stories.

In a couple of weeks I am going down there to help go through all of her stuff: jewelry, clothing, books, pictures in frames, and lots and lots of photo albums. It will be hard to do but a necessary part of the process.

My sister was my confidant, she knew things no one else every knew or will know. She always gave me the best advice but only if I asked for it. There were so many traditions between us over the years. That will be hard to give up but good to remember.

Wendy was smart but also wise. She was funny, caring, loving and special, very very special, to all of us, particularly her husband. If you have a sibling, tell them you love them often. If you are estranged, maybe reaching out is what you need to do. My husband reached out to his older brother after 40 years. His brother was overjoyed. We saw him and his wife maybe four times before he died. It was a blessing.

Thank you for listening to my story. My sister was on the email list to get my blogs. She always told me how much she enjoyed them. Hope she liked this one, too. God bless.

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