Mother & Daughter

It's hard to describe how sad I was to hear of Debbie Reynolds' passing a day after her daughter, Carrie Fisher died. To have that kind of love for your child, no matter what the age, is amazing. I can understand it because I have seen it.

When the paramedics pronounced my sister dead, I saw my mother literally crumple into herself. I know she was wishing it had been her, or probably any of the rest of us, instead of Robin. My sister was the one child out of five that lived with my parents her entire life. She and my mother were hang out partners. After my father died Robin would sit in my mother's chair while Marie sat in my father's "throne". That's where I would always find them when I would go to their house.

Don't get me wrong: their relationship wasn't perfect. They were different people and each wished the other was more accepting. But they were very close and had the kind of mother / daughter relationship I wished I could have had with Marie. But that's another story for another day...maybe.

I have done everything possible for my mother (still) since Robin's passing. But the one thing I can't be is Robin. And that's what she wants. Someone who can take her daughter's place by her side all the time. What breaks my heart is the fact that she doesn't really want to be in her house alone. Yet she doesn't want to move directly across the street into my house with me so I can take care of her. Truth be told, I know why she wants to stay there so I have stopped asking her to do something she so obviously doesn't want to do. I know in my heart of hearts that my mother wants to die in that house. Her husband died there, her daughter died there, so she wants the same for herself.

I don't have to like it, but I do have to accept it. And I will. I just hope that God is merciful to her and mends her broken heart. That's pretty much all I can ask for her. Amen.

Sissy Loves You

💖According to the coroner and paramedics, my sister died on December 6, 2015. But in my heart I know she died the night of December 5, 2015. But the medical personnel didn't "call" it until after midnight.  Thankfully, the paramedics said that she never felt a thing: she just dropped to the floor in her room. Thank God for small favors...

So I'm using her computer to write a little tribute to her. She was totally computer illiterate but felt like she should get one and join the 21st century. But she didn't use it. I wanted to teach her about Facebook at least. However, she said she didn't want to get all involved with that. So I became friends with her school friends so she could keep in touch vicariously! And the funny thing was: her friends all thought I was her, and had changed my name after high school! So that was interesting trying to convince them that we were really 2 different people!

And we were totally different. She was a homebody: I loved the nightlife. She was an introvert: I tried hard to be an extrovert. I liked to tease her about liking to dress like "Garanimals": she teased  me that I wouldn't wear a bathing suit because it was improper but would wear sheer clothing out to the club. I was married and divorced with kids: she didn't even date.

In spite of this we were best friends. We shared a love of movies, music and Jason Statham. She turned me on to the series "Roswell" which I thought would be lame but was phenomenal. I would go to her house every Saturday afternoon and we'd watch an episode, or 3. Then we tried to do the same with "Nip/Tuck", one of the nastiest shows on television (until "Sons of Anarchy" rolled around. But I digress). We watched a couple of seasons but then most of the sex scenes were so raunchy I had to bow out. It was a great series, quirky with great story lines but I just couldn't. I think she finished the series but she did it without me!

We used to always ask each other for favors, or would use the barter system. Like if she wanted something from the store, she'd offer to buy me something. Or if she wanted me to drive us to our hair appointment, I'd say yes but then I'd want to drive her big beautiful Nissan. We'd borrow money from each other, go shopping or to the movies together. And we always knew when one of us wanted something because the phone call would begin, "Who loves Sissy?" That's how we knew!

I would love to hear her say that one more time. But that's not going to happen until I see her again in the presence of the Lord. I'm just glad that I know she's there.

At the end of those phone calls we'd always say, "Sissy loves you".  And to this day that is true. Miss you Robin. Sissy loves you. Thanks for the memories.

In France They Kiss On Main Street

In Saratoga they kiss on Broadway.
'Nuff said.