My very first childhood memory is of her. I am standing in our room, watching as she and my cousin, Eddie, are jumping on the bed. I know that they aren't supposed to be doing that and in my early toddler brain, the right and wrong is like black and white. I'm trying to understand why they are doing this when they know it's wrong and at the same time, I'm partly in awe that they would be so blatantly naughty. When the bed breaks, my sister Elizabeth and Eddie are scolded by my dad and my aunt and get sent to time out. I'm relieved that I didn't join in.
For our first twelve years, we shared a room. At night, we talked, sometimes argued as I was afraid of the dark so I didn't want the door shut all the way so the light from the hallway can come in. She is the brave one, wanting the door shut tight so the dark can send her into dreamland.
I was always in awe of her bravery, even though it often led to fights between us. She paved the way, the one who knew things before I did. She stood up to mom and dad in ways I never could and could be frustratingly stubborn.
When we were little and would get into the kind of trouble that meant a spanking, we would stand in front of dad as he handed down his verdict. Then he would inevitably ask "who wants to go first"? I would stand there tight lipped, my tears running like Niagra Falls, quiet as a mouse, hoping beyond hope that mercy would be granted. Eliz would stand there, stoic, until at last she finally would volunteer to go first. I was the crybaby, she was the rock.
Being so close in age, we would annoy each other to no end and there came a time when she would tire of having a little sister around so she would instruct me to pretend that I didn't know her and that I wasn't her sister, so of course, I would pester her even more and let everyone know that she was my sister. It also meant that we often had the same friends which was both good and bad.
In high school, I became jealous. Jealous of her beauty, jealous of her confidence, jealous of her smarts. We were both friends and adversaries. I knew that underneath it all she loved me because she had the strength to take me out anytime she wanted, yet she never did.
As we got older, my admiration for her grew and I stopped trying to compete with her. When she got married, I was so happy and so sad. I knew that meant that our house was no longer her home and I was a little lost at first. It helped that she always opened her door to me and I would often go to her apartment and later home as a place of refuge. It was then that our bond really tightened and it has been that way ever since.
When I was diagnosed with cancer, she was right there by my side, my strength, my pillar...some things never change. She is the one I still look up to, the one I want to approve of my choices, my life, my decisions...some things never change. She is the one I call when I'm happy, when I'm mad, when I just feel like talking...some things never change. I hope they never do.
When we were little and would get into the kind of trouble that meant a spanking, we would stand in front of dad as he handed down his verdict. Then he would inevitably ask "who wants to go first"? I would stand there tight lipped, my tears running like Niagra Falls, quiet as a mouse, hoping beyond hope that mercy would be granted. Eliz would stand there, stoic, until at last she finally would volunteer to go first. I was the crybaby, she was the rock.
Being so close in age, we would annoy each other to no end and there came a time when she would tire of having a little sister around so she would instruct me to pretend that I didn't know her and that I wasn't her sister, so of course, I would pester her even more and let everyone know that she was my sister. It also meant that we often had the same friends which was both good and bad.
In high school, I became jealous. Jealous of her beauty, jealous of her confidence, jealous of her smarts. We were both friends and adversaries. I knew that underneath it all she loved me because she had the strength to take me out anytime she wanted, yet she never did.
As we got older, my admiration for her grew and I stopped trying to compete with her. When she got married, I was so happy and so sad. I knew that meant that our house was no longer her home and I was a little lost at first. It helped that she always opened her door to me and I would often go to her apartment and later home as a place of refuge. It was then that our bond really tightened and it has been that way ever since.
When I was diagnosed with cancer, she was right there by my side, my strength, my pillar...some things never change. She is the one I still look up to, the one I want to approve of my choices, my life, my decisions...some things never change. She is the one I call when I'm happy, when I'm mad, when I just feel like talking...some things never change. I hope they never do.
How wonderful to have, not only your father's cameras but also the loving kept and frequently poured over photos! What a beautiful tribute to your sister...and to yourself Deb! Your "lists" are so delightful or poignant or thought provoking or humorous ...or all of them rolled into one. I have so enjoyed viewing them! Thanks!!
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