(prompt: 'tune' 19 March 2021... written on 20 March 2021)

The sadness I feel is not how I imagined, on learning that my sister died this day. Sometimes we humans march to the tune of a different drum than would be expected at a time like this; bear a different pain than the 'norm' we have felt so many times before; grieve deep inside with memories unknown to those around us.

The condolences are offered and accepted with downturned eyes and a heart that sinks even lower. I know what is expected this time. I've been there before. Dad was the shocking first of my closest losses. That beautiful, humble, loving human being who lived his life for those he loved; who never reached his retirement years, so well-earned from his schoolboy years when his first work began in tandem.

Then my mother. Can't go there just now. We were so very close. Shared almost everything. She died in my arms.

And my older brother, the dashing sailor of a lifetime ago. We had such a special love, a meeting of souls in so many ways. I grieved deeply for him. The pain increased almost unbearably when he had tremendous trouble saying goodbye to my mother, due to his severe hearing problems; but I think their eyes said everything to each other. They both knew she was in good hands with me by her side. My eldest brother lives on, knowing little about anything at all these days. Although who knows what fleeting memories pass, like a will-o'-the wisp, a friendly, but almost ghostly presence, unable to be grasped and savoured? I wish and hope there are many of these.

Now it is the turn of my sister. Suddenly, the tears are falling, but not for the expected reasons. The day of her death is the same day our mother would have turned 109, but her last day came last century. Imagine. The same day! Uncanny, because my sister had 'divorced' our mother permanently many years ago. This was the second separation, the first lasting several years. I stayed in the middle that time, trying to understand both sides, hoping against hope an amicable reunion would happen... and finally it did. SO many tears and so much suffering by the three of us in the interim. The second time proved impossible for me to do anything but support my mother through her terrible time of grief and pain. I choose to believe this is all over now. I see them together at last, loving each other as they always did.

So the sadness I feel for for my sister today is for lost years of love — by her and to her. Did she know how much we grieved for her loss way before she died... those of us who loved her for such a long time? She was not in enough control of her faculties for some time to have seen my Facebook cover pic that was dedicated to a deepest, fondest memory of countless special nights we shared, when she was reading bedtime stories to me, and it was her who went to sleep instead! Until, of course, a sharp jab in her ribs reminded her to "WAKE UP!". There is a whimsical depiction of a small girl and a huge book, and I wrote —

and little Christine said...

"Just ONE more story, Jenny... p-l-e-a-s-e?"

Photo by Faye Cornish on Unsplash

Sentiments by Christine Larsen