I have two sisters. One is seven and a half years older than I am, and the other is seven and a half years younger. I don't know why, but the older sister and I didn't ever really get along. The younger sister and I have been friends all of our lives. She is forty-two.
Yesterday, my younger sister was razzing me because I won't leave my husband alone to travel. "You're afraid something is going to happen to him while you are gone," she said.
It's not that really, or maybe it is, but only a little bit. It is more that he traveled for the first twenty-one years of our marriage and he doesn't like being alone. He even said that, which is a lot for him to admit. He is an adult, and I know he could survive without me. I know I could leave him for a while. But I don't want to. That was hard for me to say. My sister's pull is strong.
Later in the evening, my teaching partner from Ohio called. She and I have maintained our friendship even through our move to Indiana. It has been six years since the move, ten since Lisa and I started working together. I had called her because her sister runs a consignment shop for children's clothing near where my grandchildren live. I had thought that I might patronize it on my next visit.
Lisa called to tell me that her sister was....dead. She was forty-one. She stopped at a light and died before she took off again. That was in July, and there is still no cause of death. Her death leaves Lisa, who is forty-three, an only child. Her mom has Alzheimer's and no longer recognizes her. Her father died two years ago.
God worked things out so that Lisa was already on her way to her sister's that day. She arrived to find several police cars in front of the house and accompanied her brother-in-law and her sister's children, aged five, seven and nine, to the hospital. Nobody was rushing around when she got there, she said. So she knew.
The two oldest children, who are girls, took their mother's death in vastly different ways. The oldest was teary. The middle child didn't shed a one. And the five year old, who is a boy, stood at the window and told everyone who passed by that his mom had died that day. I can't even imagine what that was like for my friend. Instead of having a fun weekend with her sister and her family, she planned her sister's funeral.
Lisa is worried about her brother-in-law and the kids. There are some financial problems, and of course they are all dealing with the grief. She sort of wishes they would move north so that she could be of more help. But in the middle of it all, she has her own grief to deal with.
This is what she said to me: "Becky, she was my sister. We were only sixteen months apart. We told each other things we couldn't tell anyone else. Who else can be that to me?"
What could I say to that? I have no way to ease the loss she has suffered, but I could hear the anguish in her voice.
Like I said, I am only really close to one of my sisters, and I don't really know why that is. But I know it would devastate me if I lost her. Razzing and all. I know she is going to heaven when she dies. But what would I do without my friend?
Yesterday, my younger sister was razzing me because I won't leave my husband alone to travel. "You're afraid something is going to happen to him while you are gone," she said.
It's not that really, or maybe it is, but only a little bit. It is more that he traveled for the first twenty-one years of our marriage and he doesn't like being alone. He even said that, which is a lot for him to admit. He is an adult, and I know he could survive without me. I know I could leave him for a while. But I don't want to. That was hard for me to say. My sister's pull is strong.
Later in the evening, my teaching partner from Ohio called. She and I have maintained our friendship even through our move to Indiana. It has been six years since the move, ten since Lisa and I started working together. I had called her because her sister runs a consignment shop for children's clothing near where my grandchildren live. I had thought that I might patronize it on my next visit.
Lisa called to tell me that her sister was....dead. She was forty-one. She stopped at a light and died before she took off again. That was in July, and there is still no cause of death. Her death leaves Lisa, who is forty-three, an only child. Her mom has Alzheimer's and no longer recognizes her. Her father died two years ago.
God worked things out so that Lisa was already on her way to her sister's that day. She arrived to find several police cars in front of the house and accompanied her brother-in-law and her sister's children, aged five, seven and nine, to the hospital. Nobody was rushing around when she got there, she said. So she knew.
The two oldest children, who are girls, took their mother's death in vastly different ways. The oldest was teary. The middle child didn't shed a one. And the five year old, who is a boy, stood at the window and told everyone who passed by that his mom had died that day. I can't even imagine what that was like for my friend. Instead of having a fun weekend with her sister and her family, she planned her sister's funeral.
Lisa is worried about her brother-in-law and the kids. There are some financial problems, and of course they are all dealing with the grief. She sort of wishes they would move north so that she could be of more help. But in the middle of it all, she has her own grief to deal with.
This is what she said to me: "Becky, she was my sister. We were only sixteen months apart. We told each other things we couldn't tell anyone else. Who else can be that to me?"
What could I say to that? I have no way to ease the loss she has suffered, but I could hear the anguish in her voice.
Like I said, I am only really close to one of my sisters, and I don't really know why that is. But I know it would devastate me if I lost her. Razzing and all. I know she is going to heaven when she dies. But what would I do without my friend?
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