In any family, there is a birth order. We can read books on the subject and discover why older, middle, and younger children behave as they do. Perhaps those studies are reliable and the theories are true or perhaps they are just generalizations because there is always somebody who breaks the mold.
In our large family, there were only two girls, my sister and me. There was quite an age difference, so she was the older one I always looked up to. If, as a teen, I didn’t know how to handle a situation, I’d ask myself, “What would Helen do?” She made quite an impression; she always knew the answers, made the right choices, and did her best to bring up a younger sister in the way that she should go. It was a hard job.
Never did my sister say she was bored; she didn’t have time to be bored. Always busy, dust and dirt found no refuge when Helen was around. Her house was spotless and her meals, delicious. After she married and came back to visit Mom and Dad, she felt it her duty and joy to clean Mom’s house, top to bottom. And, while she did this, we talked. And laughed. And shared secrets. We had some of our best visits over a sudsy sink full of dishes.
She was an excellent cook. I still use her recipe for yeast bread every Thanksgiving and Christmas. She sewed for her children (she had four), shared with me a recipe for play-dough, and watched over her family like a loving and sometimes fierce guardian angel.
She had a lively sense of humor and an infectious laugh. When we couldn’t get together, we talked on the phone. And, we wrote letters. I still have a special letter or two that she wrote, and lots of birthday cards.
When Mom died, we were like lost children and Helen said, “We’ll remember the good times.” Well, Sis, now you’re gone and I’m still here but I’ll re-read the verse on one of your birthday cards, “It’s nice to have a sister who is just the perfect blend of a warm and loving person and a very special friend!” That was you, Sis. I’m thankful for the gift of being your sister. And, I’ll try very hard to blink away the tears and remember all the good times.
It never failed. A week or two after Helen had visited, Grandma would be looking for one or another beat up pan or spatula that she had a use for only to discover it had vanished. Helen was a sort of quality control for Grandma’s kitchen ware but Grandma never seemed to appreciate it.
How well I remember!
Many condolences to you and your family. I was talking to my wife about memories of loved ones and I said that I chose to remember Grandma Donna on the day that she left the hospital for the last time. She brought each of us into her room and talked to us about her choosing to go on home and forego further treatment. The times I was with her after that she was in quite a lot of pain or not very coherent. We do remember the good times. It is what keeps us going in the not so good times. God bless you and your family.
Blanche, thank you for the loving telling about your sister. You’ll miss her but such joy you have to know you’ll see her again with all your loved ones that are rejoicing together now.
Love and prayers for you and yours, Fran
Yes, it’s like that old song, Fran, “When We All Get to Heaven.” It truly will be a time of rejoicing.
Thank you, Brian. I’m glad you have good memories of Donna too. She was a wonderful person. Aunt Georgia loved her like a daughter.
It sounds like you had a wonderful sister. Being an only child, I can’t even imagine the feeling. I always find comfort in 1 Corinthians 1:3 “Praised be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of tender mercies and the God of all comfort who comforts us in all our trials.”
That is indeed a comforting verse, Sharon. Thank you!