Ten years ago yesterday.....
Ten years ago yesterday was a Saturday. My youngest sister died. She was 42.
Earlier this week, a friend was visiting, and she asked a question, and my sister's story, from my viewpoint, spilled out. I had forgotten how angry I was at her.
Each of us make choices. Those choices shape our lives. But before the choices, are other factors. My sister was the youngest of three. She benefited from two tired parents, who had experience with two intelligent, curious children. With three, there was always two against one. That continued until we moved to a suburb where there were many neighbors.
Biologically, she had a body predisposed to diabetes. She lacked the skills, and perseverance to go to college when she was young. She worked low income fast food jobs. Generally she'd lose those jobs when she worked a double shift and then told off a lazy co-worker. After she was diagnosed with diabetes, it made sense... she had low blood sugar from working hard, and not eating. What a difference health insurance could have made.
She had many problems. She depended on others to take care of her.
There were walls built between me and her. But that was a long time ago. She's gone now. Her death marked the beginning of a year that changed my life completely. If she was still alive, I'd probably still live in Indiana.
Good bye Ginger. I miss you. I miss your jokes, your smile, your teasing. I miss your enthusiasm, and your frustrations.
It's been ten years.
Long version...
My father called that Thursday or Friday morning. That was his habit, calling early in the morning to talk. But this morning the conversation was grim. My father lived in Fort Wayne, Indiana in the Northwest corner of the state. Our hometown was Boonville, in the Southeast corner of the state. I lived in Indianapolis, about halfway between the two. When Dad drove to Boonville for a funeral, he'd stop and chat. He still attended and was the pallbearer for the family members that I barely remembered from family reunions.
Grace, the matriarch of my paternal family had been in hospice (at age 100), she was expected to die soon. My sister was in a coma in a hospital in Ft. Wayne, she was diabetic with renal failure, and had stopped taking her medications earlier in the week. Her husband found her, unconscious, and she was hospitalized on Wednesday or Thursday. My maternal uncle had been in the hospital in St. Louis, for pancreatitis. Dad's message that grim Friday morning was to pack a suitcase. He didn't know who would be dying, but I would be going to a funeral the next week.
Saturday morning the call came from Dad, Ginger was gone. Hours later, he called again, Grace was gone. The suitcases were already packed.
Above I wrote about Ginger. Grace was my grandmother's cousin (once removed?). Each week they wrote letters back and forth which began "Dear Pal." The letters were quite different. Grace lived in the country and wrote about the vegetable garden, canning, the changing seasons, the county events. My Grandmother lived in the city, and wrote about her son, her grandchildren, her co-workers, and how she missed the country. They wrote weekly from the time Grandma moved to the city in 1971 until her death in 1987.
Grace kept track of everyone in the family. You could ask about a random family member and she'd know good and bad, the details of how to find them. She was one of seven children, but never had a child herself. She kept track of everyone... that was her job. The family tracked back to when a widow and widower married, combining families and adding children. They married in the 1880's.
Earlier this week, a friend was visiting, and she asked a question, and my sister's story, from my viewpoint, spilled out. I had forgotten how angry I was at her.
Each of us make choices. Those choices shape our lives. But before the choices, are other factors. My sister was the youngest of three. She benefited from two tired parents, who had experience with two intelligent, curious children. With three, there was always two against one. That continued until we moved to a suburb where there were many neighbors.
Biologically, she had a body predisposed to diabetes. She lacked the skills, and perseverance to go to college when she was young. She worked low income fast food jobs. Generally she'd lose those jobs when she worked a double shift and then told off a lazy co-worker. After she was diagnosed with diabetes, it made sense... she had low blood sugar from working hard, and not eating. What a difference health insurance could have made.
She had many problems. She depended on others to take care of her.
There were walls built between me and her. But that was a long time ago. She's gone now. Her death marked the beginning of a year that changed my life completely. If she was still alive, I'd probably still live in Indiana.
Good bye Ginger. I miss you. I miss your jokes, your smile, your teasing. I miss your enthusiasm, and your frustrations.
It's been ten years.
Long version...
My father called that Thursday or Friday morning. That was his habit, calling early in the morning to talk. But this morning the conversation was grim. My father lived in Fort Wayne, Indiana in the Northwest corner of the state. Our hometown was Boonville, in the Southeast corner of the state. I lived in Indianapolis, about halfway between the two. When Dad drove to Boonville for a funeral, he'd stop and chat. He still attended and was the pallbearer for the family members that I barely remembered from family reunions.
Grace, the matriarch of my paternal family had been in hospice (at age 100), she was expected to die soon. My sister was in a coma in a hospital in Ft. Wayne, she was diabetic with renal failure, and had stopped taking her medications earlier in the week. Her husband found her, unconscious, and she was hospitalized on Wednesday or Thursday. My maternal uncle had been in the hospital in St. Louis, for pancreatitis. Dad's message that grim Friday morning was to pack a suitcase. He didn't know who would be dying, but I would be going to a funeral the next week.
Saturday morning the call came from Dad, Ginger was gone. Hours later, he called again, Grace was gone. The suitcases were already packed.
Above I wrote about Ginger. Grace was my grandmother's cousin (once removed?). Each week they wrote letters back and forth which began "Dear Pal." The letters were quite different. Grace lived in the country and wrote about the vegetable garden, canning, the changing seasons, the county events. My Grandmother lived in the city, and wrote about her son, her grandchildren, her co-workers, and how she missed the country. They wrote weekly from the time Grandma moved to the city in 1971 until her death in 1987.
Grace kept track of everyone in the family. You could ask about a random family member and she'd know good and bad, the details of how to find them. She was one of seven children, but never had a child herself. She kept track of everyone... that was her job. The family tracked back to when a widow and widower married, combining families and adding children. They married in the 1880's.
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