My Sister, My Family: This is What Matters

Today's post is for me, my sister, my husband, and for anyone who shares a life with others.

My two favorite people in the whole wide world: Dr. Thyme and Sissy. If you've got a sister, you will totally get my post today. If not, well, I am certain there is someone in your life with whom much of the following applies. (Especially for us girls.)

My week could not have been better. Busy? Yes. Full of vegan eats? Yes. Bread baked every night? Yes. Full of laughing and very LOUD talking? Yes! Poor Dr.Thyme. I am sure returning to work today might restore the hearing he lost as he sat between my sister and me with his hands covering his ears in disbelief that the decibel we MUST talk to each other in is in Surround Sound Stereo! (LOL!) We owe a lot of our vocal clarity to our mother who for some reason felt she could best communicate with us at least one floor away or at the opposite end of the house. I told my sister this week, "I don't remember mom ever once whispering to us. Do you?" No. Neither one of us had a whispering memory. And it's not like we lived in a busy, full household. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it was just the three of us and. . . her "husbands". (And I do mean that literally.)

It had been almost four years since I had last seen my sister. The time with her this past week has brought with it a whole host of memories. We were all our mother had. Now, along with my husband, she is all I have. With my sister living a couple of states away (back in my home town) and my utter disdain of travel, I was thrilled to hear she wanted to come stay with me during her vacation. As I told her: You are ALWAYS welcome here. When I saw her coming through the gate at the airport, the tears stayed back. Then all of the the personal struggles of the past few years and how much of a battle it had been to get to this point where now she was here at last: the hugs and finally the tears happened. Here I was, the older sister being told by my younger sister: Don't cry! This is a happy day! And it was a happy moment. But I've always been a cry baby. So cry I did.

We don't talk every day. I don't like the phone. I never have. My sister, she will call, but will have to "shout" and leave a message if calling. You there? H-e-l-l-o It's me. . . okay, call me back. I know it sounds horrible. The only phone in the house sits in the kitchen. Given I am nearly always at least five feet away somewhere in my kitchen, I return calls very quickly. And forget about cell phones. I got a lot of grief this past week for being a techno-phobe about the phone. I was like, Look. . . I blog--that's about as tech as I want to be right now, okay?! So my phone earned the nickname: the Brick. (Yes, it is over six years old and yes, I STILL have to pull up the antenna on it to get good reception.) Don't laugh!

My sister and I had a colorful childhood. Techno-color for that matter. We could easily fill a novel--maybe housed in the fiction-but-not-really book section. Our mother can be thanked for that. 

So a bit of the past today. I'm not much of a "scrapbooker"--really, that whole cut and paste, paper and scissors thing is not my bag. But I did manage to scrape together a few pics for a semi-scrapbook moment after discovering my biological father had died late last year. My therapist thought it would be a good excercise--creating a bit of closure, if you will, in putting this scrapbook together. I shared this scrapbook with my sister--she and I both had a good moment over this little keepsake, a few tears, too.  

I had this picture of my mother with me (the baby) and my grandpa Michael--who was an immigrant from Croatia--it's one of my faves. (My sister's father legally adopted me at the tender age of six--then they had my sister!) But then my Croatian name was gone. Boy-oh-boy was grandpa unhappy about that. For the few times after in my adult life whenever I'd see him--the "old country" fist would rise up in the air and the declaration in a thick Croatian accent: Don't EVER forget who you are, where-a you come from: Croatia! (Well that and whatever my mother had in her genes?) Any guesses would be greatly appreciated! As you can see here in this old black and white photo, our mother was this raving beauty. Men fell over themselves for her. For most of our upbringing, my sister and I had to live with the: Your mom. . . she's so pretty. And we knew this. How could we not notice?

As we were sitting for the picture moment this week, mom was there. Suddenly, out of my sister's mouth came: "You don't have earrings on!" Heaven forbid! This was such a mom moment, it was as if our mother were right there with us. Mom was completely about "presentation". The no-earring moment stopped me in my tracks--how could I? Sit for a photo--no earrings on? My god! All photo-taking halted so I could climb up our hill back into the house, earrings now in place. Dr. Thyme with the patience of a saint--camera ready upon my earring clad head.   

Here's our mom again. Still. . . a beauty, holding a cig. Classic mom shot.

Our mom was an only child. I know for a fact if our mother would have had a sister, she would have LOVED it! Our mom was a loner for the most part. Not by choice. I mean, she lost a lot throughout her life. First being the woman who gave birth to her and then decided NOT to keep her. Then, her father when she was fourteen. It was just she and my grandmother for many years after. Grandma remained a widow. I wish to this day I'd have paid more attention and asked more questions. But you know how it is in your 20s and then life wooshes past and before you know it, the time to ask questions has left as well.

 Our mother was adopted out of an orphanage when she was almost two years old. We still don't have the whole story behind the circumstances leading to her adoption. Our mom never found out her own story. She tried to, trust me. About a year before our mom died, I asked her if anything had come to light in her attempts at finding out who her real parents were? She did have one piece of luck in her discovery and found out that according to her birth certificate serial number (or whatever that number is called), she was a twin. I was blown away. A twin? With a girl or a boy? She was not able to find this out. Then I was like, Well why in the heck weren't you both adopted out together? Another mystery. No one will ever know. Our mom said she had always felt like something was missing in her life. Like she carried this "lonliness" with her throughout life--even from a very young age. It was very upsetting to listen to her tell this. Cripes, makes me wonder what her birth mother must have felt like, too.  

So back to my sister and I. We have different dads. So what. She has never been anything but MY sister. I've never said, Meet my half sister. There is no half friend, no half husband. Therefore, there is no "half" sister. There is no such thing. You either are sisters or you are not. Having our mother's DNA is enough, trust me. As usual, she is very much my anchor--more than she will ever know. She has my whole history in her head--some of which at my Almost Fifty--I can barely keep straight, let alone recall! But now, we sort of both fill in the blanks for each other where we can. I can hardly wait to see us in our Almost Sixty years!

Me and sissy again--YEARS ago--nineties. Many, many, many years ago.

Again. . . a sister moment--taken about eight or nine years ago.

I love this picture of my mom and me--I'm sure my sister took this.

I got all nostalgic this week with my sister being here. I miss her terribly. I thought about this post all weekend. How would I capture it all? How would I share this? How could I not share this week? How would I keep the memory of what just happened alive for me to look back on and savor? I wanted this past week to be part of my blog. I've had so many distractions this month--all very good distractions, grant it. Overall, November has ended up being a very busy month. I guess my blogging is my way of scrapbooking. I tend to think in all honesty that my electronic memories will outlast any paper and glue memory anyway. Today it's back to reality for a while--til Dr. Thyme and I head into the holiday vacation time together and create more family memories. Hi Sissy, I love you and I know you're reading this!