Sisters

This post comes a day late because I meant for it to be shared on May 18, 2011.  Yesterday, May 18^th was my sister Connie’s birthday.  Connie is my only sister and is 6 years younger than me.  I remember the day she was born as if it were yesterday and not 40 years ago.   I can’t say for certain, but 40 years ago I don’t think there were tests you had in advance to be find out what your child was going to be, a boy or girl.  So we all waited in anticipation, my 3 brothers and I to see what we would have. Another brother or a sister.  When Connie was born  I was thrilled.  In a house full of boys I now had a sister.   I ran from house to house in the  neighborhood that morning she was born, knocking on doors telling  all our neighbors that I had A SISTER. 

I don’t remember being jealous of the attention she received when we were children though I probably was.  She had the most beautiful red hair and big brown eyes.  I had plain old dull brownish hair.  Everywhere we went people would remark on her hair.  I still envy her hair color and the fact that it has natural curl to it while mine is straight.  As we got older, her presence became quite annoying to me. Seems like she was always tagging along after me.   Most of my childhood memories from the age of about 8-12 have her in them.  She was my sidekick.  My mom always sent her out with me to play.  When I hit my teenage years I remember being very aggravated about having to share a room with her.  My walls were filled with posters of David Cassidy and Bobby Sherman .  She on the other hand, wanted to hang posters of the Smurfs and stupid kid shows. 

I remember some of our most dramatic fights were over our room.  When I wanted to be alone with my teenager friends to talk about boys and such, she was always underfoot.   When I got my drivers license my mom would make me take her with me when I went to Sonic with my friends.  I remember cruising  Main Street in my Ford Pinto with Connie in the backseat.   I wouldn’t let her ride in the front.  And I would make her duck down if I saw the car approaching of one of the boys I had a crush on. 

I didn’t really know my sister during her teenage years because my family had moved on to Kingfisher and I was in Stillwater attending college.  In the early years of my marriage and the first years of being a mom, she was away at college in Idaho and so I didn’t see her much then.  The 6 year age gap might as well have been 16 for many years as I was busy with motherhood and marriage and she was busy with college and her first job. 

I think we first became close when I went through my divorce.  Suddenly, there was this grown up woman with kids of her own and a counseling degree to boot that understood what I was going through because she had been through a divorce herself.  She never wavered in her support for me.  When I ranted and raved about what a jerk my ex husband was, she chimed right in.  When I had moments of overwhelming sorrow and tears that flowed freely, she cried with me.

When our mother got sick, Connie was the one that I confessed my fear and my immense sorrow to.  During those months when my mom battled cancer, Connie was my sounding board.  There was no one else that understood my heartache during that time as well as she did for she had the same fears and the same heartaches as I did.  And in those last few weeks when it became obvious that mom was not going to live much longer, it was Connie and me  that sat by her side, night after night, talking as she slept .

We shared a lot of poignant moments during those last few days.  There were times when we would find ourselves laughing hysterically at something my mom would say in her morphine induced sleep.  There were times when we would both sit tears streaming as we watched her sleep, unable to speak but reading each others hearts without effort.  And it was Connie, who as a mother herself like me understood how much  different our lives would be when we lost her and didn’t have her for advice as we mothered our own children. 

We have formed a bond  in the last few years that is unlike any other relationship.  It is with her that I can speak freely without fear of being judged.  She will call a spade a spade and tell me exactly what she thinks knowing that even if it makes me mad, I’ll get over it.  She knows my history, my past mistakes, my trials and my triumphs.  We share the same memories though sometimes her re collection  is different because of the age difference when we were kids.  She was too young to remember some of the drama that my older brothers and I share of the turbulent years my dad was an alcoholic.  Her memories of our childhood in Mesquite, Texas are vague because we moved to Oklahoma when she was six. 

I am very close to my sister’s kids Eric and Anna.   In some ways I have become the substitute for my mom to them because she died when they were 3 and 4 years old.  I can tell them stories about their mom when she was a little girl.  I can tell them stories about when they were babies.  I have shared their birthdays with them, their Christmas’s and many, many other good times.  When they are adults they will have me as part of their childhood memories.   What a blessing it has been to have my sister,s children as part of my life.

I found this quote the other day and as I reflect on Connie and what she has meant to me in my life it seems to sum it up.  I have no idea who Clara Ortega is but she wrote:

To the outside world we all grow old.  But not to our  sisters.  We know each other as we always were.  We know each other's hearts.  We share private family jokes.  We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys.  We live outside the touch of time. 

And so , even though it’s a day late in posting  the sentiment is the same. Happy Birthday to my sister Connie.   I love you  very much and am glad you are my sister.