Memory is a blessing

Funeral today for a favorite client—a sweet little old lady who should have had a chance to get really old! I only knew her in a tiny professional way but it I was so happy to learn that she was exactly who I thought she was—the same person in all areas of her life. People described her exactly as I would have. I learned a couple things about her that I didn’t already know—that she was born in Liverpool and that like my own mother, she did not allow the milk carton/bottle on the table. You pour the milk into a pretty pitcher first and put that pitcher on the table!

I was thinking about the last time I saw her and the laughs we shared and how glad I was that I had that chance to see her. Her grandson talked about how he was expecting the last week to be so sad (which it was) but that it was also so joyful and how proud he was to learn how his grandmother had touched so many lives. Now I understand what it means to be “a woman of valor.” And I think I might be getting some understanding of what it means when they say “may her memory be a blessing.”

All that from a little 70+ year old woman who blushed when I told her how much I loved her very short, growing-back-in hair. I was lucky to cross paths with her in this life.

Time Zones to Infinity

February 6, 2011

Had a very strange stream-of-consciousness event this morning. Was thinking about Andi, visiting her Betsy. It’s so hard, going to visit a sister and friend, a sister-friend, knowing you are saying goodbye. Sent up a little prayer on their behalf. Suddenly, I’m talking to Linda, my sweet sister-friend who died in 1994 and how we went to Colorado to see her at Thanksgiving in 1993. I remembered the letter I wrote to Linda telling her how much I loved her and how much she had meant to me. I was praying that Andi had a chance to share all her feelings with Betsy. Then I was asking Linda to be there for Betsy when she arrived and telling her all about Betsy.

Then my sister, Sue shows up in the conversation! This is surprising because she didn’t believe in an afterlife, but I’m telling her what’s up. AND THEN IT REALLY HITS ME. Today is the anniversary of Sue’s death. Ten years. I find myself sobbing. Full body-convulsing sobbing. Of course I think about her ALL the time. But she never really breaks through the wall—the one I built so I don’t fall apart when I think of her. But there she was. Nothing to say…just there.

I’m not looking for any meaning in this. It is what it is. I guess Linda would have called herself Buddhist (from Catholic); and Sue, well, I guess atheist if anything (from Catholic); and Andi, Jewish plus (i.e. open to everything sort of like me.) So there’s no particular intersection. Just me and my thoughts and dreams.

So. There’s really nothing on this day. Just the same old wish and sadness. I wish Sue had let me tell her the things I needed to say—though hadn’t I shown her in so many ways? I wish she hadn’t fought us off there at the end. In my head, I understand. I mean she told us she was afraid we’d take over and I understand. I just wish she would have believed us when we told her we just wanted to tell her we loved her.

Another 365 days without her and still, the words I wrote on the train going back to MD from NY are my best effort at describing my loss. I hope Andi won’t have to feel so empty after 10 years. And I’ll never know if I was as important to Linda as she was to me, but I’m grateful that she allowed me to tell her, because after 17 years, I miss her but at least I know that she knows how much.

Susan, Joni, Marian. Joni's wedding

Susan, Marian, Joni in Greece.

Time Zones to Infinity

I suppose

it’s a good thing we got used to

long-distance sisterhood.

All those years

dreaming

of sitting at each other’s house

talking long into the night

dreaming of meeting for

dinner or drinks or a movie

dreaming of picking up the phone

without a thought of time zones.

I’ve spent 30 years

thinking of you

missing you

reminding myself to write to you

reminding myself to tell you

about a book I read

a movie I saw

a dress I bought

a new hairstyle

a new baby.

Seems like we were always

making plans

trying to figure out

a time

a place

a season

We never needed a reason.

So I guess it was all

preparation

for this.

Now what am I supposed to do?

There is no resolution.

From now on

it will always be a

dream.

Time zones to infinity

and no way to meet

halfway.

I should be used to it.

JAS, 2001