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. Jon
i's wedding
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
