My Sister

I wonder how someone who knows they are going to die soon, unlike all of us who have some idea we are going to die somewhere in the future, cope.  My sister was diagnosed with Lupus at 26 and died at age 36.  In those ten years she knew she was dying soon.  Every day had to have been a trial for her.  Yet she was a person of utmost faith and utmost consideration.  I have no idea at all I could have handled her burdens in such a graceful manner.

I loved my sister.  My (now) ex-wife and I spent a lot of time with her and her family.  At the time I just thought her reactions were "normal".  It is only now I realize how much she must have put into living for today and not worrying so much about tomorrow.

It is unfortunate my sister left our home so soon (could not deal with my father) and I have so few real memories of her as a girl or really young woman.  My memories are so few and far between.  I recall her rocking off the porch with me at the age of several months though everyone says that is impossible.  I remember her dancing with the broom around the living room to Dick Clark and American Bandstand and throwing my brother's playing cards in the pot bellied stove.

I wonder if Jimmy and Danny could ever envision their mother dancing with a broom while doing house work and listening to American Bandstand.  Don't matter if you could because she did.  One reason why memories are lies.  We remember too little and forget too much.

She was not around much as I was growing up.  She left home early and was gone most of my childhood.  I wish I had gotten to know her better.  At the time it did not seem such a big thing as I did not know it was different than most families.  Just another casualty of the war between my mother's religion and my father's hatred of it.  Then my father hated most every thing. 

After I got married we spent a lot of time with my sister and her family so we got to eat a lot of her cooking.  She made a couple of things I really loved.  One was goulash.  Ground beef, elbow macaroni, tomatoes and garlic.  Tacos with fresh heated corn tortillas, ground beef, diced tomatoes, onions, lettuce and a bottle of hot sauce.  Good stuff.  I miss that horribly.

When I was with a friend and co-worker in Norway for six months I  used to make those tacos on a regular basis.  I never tried the goulash but I do miss it.  It had a special flavor.  Probably was the garlic which I was not familiar with at the time.  I still cannot eat a Taco Bell (or other) taco without whining how it sucks compared to those tacos from my sister.  Nothing like hot, fried, corn tortillas.  Flour tortillas suck rocks.

I can't hear about goulash or tacos without thinking of her and those long, lost days.  Food then clearing off the table and a long evening of Rook or Rummy.  Such simple things yet so very important.  I really miss them.