A blouse for the very best sister ever

A blouse for the very best sister ever
                        

I still remember the day I woke up with a bad case of strep throat. I was in elementary school. Mom didn’t drive, and Dad was at work out of town. The next thing I knew my teenage sister Cathy showed up at the doctor’s office to take me home. I don’t remember how I had gotten there, but she swooped in to rescue me.

As my prescription was being filled at the pharmacy, she saw me eyeing a stuffed monkey. She grabbed it off the shelf and bought it for me. I remember thinking she was the best sister ever.

I guess I always felt that way.

Truth be told, when I was a tiny girl, I used to lie in bed at night trying to determine whom I loved more: my big sister Cathy, six years my senior, or my big brother Ralph, who was sandwiched between us with three years on either side. We lived in a three-bedroom house, so small I wonder how all six of us fit.

My sister and I shared one bedroom with my grandmother. I loved to cuddle with her under our shared blankets and quilt. My parents told me Cathy should be my role model, the one I should aspire to, and she was.

Each morning when I dressed, I admired my sister’s clothes in our shared closet. Occasionally, I “borrowed” one of her best blouses when I got to high school age, especially the yellow one I wore under my navy uniform. She worked in bill adjustment after college each night at Strouss’ Department Store in downtown Youngstown, so I knew she worked hard for her clothes. She probably knew but never got angry.

Suddenly, we grew up. My brother moved to Texas. I moved to Wooster a few years after college, and my sister married and started her family back in Youngstown near my folks. Cathy became a primary teacher and a principal for 49 years, not to mention a wife and mother. She was a tough act to follow.

I won’t lie; our connection suffered when Dad and then Mom took ill. Cathy was the overseer, despite her full-time job and family. She looked after Dad in his final years and watched over Mom while she lived alone those seven long years. Then there were the 11 years Mom spent in assisted living and full-care nursing, with Cathy serving as medical power of attorney.

I felt so helpless living nearly 100 miles away. Yes, there were times when Cathy and I differed over the decisions being made. I was too far away to help as much as I’d have liked. I felt a wedge form between us.

Those were hard years. Mom was failing. Life was busy with children and jobs and lives lived apart. Cathy and I only saw each other at our kids’ birthdays or the hospital when Mom got worse.

But then Cathy’s physician found a small lump in her ear. It turned out to be cancer. The day after the extensive surgery, I found my sister walking University Hospital’s hallways in her robe. “Well, I can’t just sit there, can I?” she asked. I guess after all the years of caring for others, that illness was a slap of reality for both of us, as are the scans that have followed. Our kids were grown by then, and well, we weren’t getting any younger.

The best part is I now look at my sister much the way I did all those years ago. She’s my dearest friend. I learned so much from her over the years, mostly about the fierce love she had for her family, our parents and, yes, even me. I’m so glad we shared the same closet, the same bed, the same love for our parents. All those things just made us closer.

So last Saturday I took her a cake and, yes, a blouse I'd hoped she’d like to the lovely restaurant to celebrate her birthday. She and her husband were there, enjoying the ambiance of Alberini’s Restaurant. The blouse I chose for her is green, like her eyes, and is soft and satiny. I hope it makes up for all the times I “borrowed” her blouses in high school. As she blew out her candles, I prayed to God, and all his saints and angels, that he grants her good health and happiness.

Because the bottom line is years from now when we are old, old ladies, I still hope to sing her the birthday song. Oh, and sis, I’d like to live next door, so start looking for properties, OK? All one floor, fireplace, two bedrooms, nice yard for the dog. You get the idea.

All jokes aside, she really is the very best sister ever.

Leslie Pearce-Keating can be emailed at leslieannpearce@gmail.com.


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