I was a private person on Monday, getting along, keeping most things to myself. I really don't know why, lots of reasons I suppose. I don't like to infringe on anyone, my opinion is just one of many. I'll share if asked, but mostly I just get along.
I was a reasonably happy person on Monday. I got scruffy in the garden, planted some tomatoes, pulled out some weeds, and then later had a back yard barbeque with friends. It was a good three day weekend.
See all these "I"s in here? They make me uncomfortable.
I got a call from my nephew on Tuesday morning. Can you come here? Can you come now? It was about 7:15, I wasn't dressed for work yet. I had only just begun my morning meditation. When you get a call like that, you go. I threw on some clothes, the first pair of pants my hand touched, the red turtleneck on the top of the pile. The first shoes were orange crocs that I had worn Monday evening. I ran back for red ones.
My nephew, son of my youngest sister, my best friend. We've shared holidays, talks, personal relationships, pets and relationships within our family, most significantly we my sister, Kendall.
He had a hard way to go, but he's landed on his feet solidly. Sometimes we talked about his mom, she also had a hard way to go, and struggled from very early on to get her own feet on the ground.
I tried to help her. It seems so arrogant to me now, the presumption that I could. She tried to help me too, but her method was simple. One time I was sad. She knew, and she was there for me. Every Sunday. As my sad lifted, we continued, every Sunday. Mostly we sewed. We made quilts. We made gifts. We had fun.
Then some of life's complications set in. For her and for me. We didn't get together every Sunday. I went to church, she didn't. We talked on the phone some, but neither of us was very good at that. There was alot she didn't, wouldn't or couldn't talk about. Her terrors didn't lift. My help was only temporary it seemed, a band-aid.
I didn't give up, but in truth, I asked her to try to help herself. It was getting heavy for me, and all that I had to offer didn't seem to lighten anything for her. She wanted to see things the way I did, she wanted to be free and easy, but when she opened her eyes what she saw frightened her.
Everything was so extreme for Kendall. I grieve that what I saw as an interlude, a rest, may have appeared to her as the end. I grieve and acknowledge that, if only in this one instance, she was correct.
Rest in peace, sister. I love you.
