And Then There Were Three - Tribute to My Beloved Sister

 

(clockwise from bottom left)
Mom, brother David, Me, sister Melinda

I am a lucky girl to have a sister as special as mine was, not just to me but to everyone who came into her circle of influence. We were very close when we were young, being a little less than two years apart in age. And we did so very many things together, though we were as different as night and day in many ways. The solid underlying values systems were the same: our respect and love for the planet, the cosmos, and the orbits of humanity and family within which we moved.

One of the earliest memories I have is of the two of us sitting in the back seat of the car while my father drove through the jungles of Malaysia, where we lived for a couple of years while he was working there in the capacity of project management/civil engineering. My sister was a sensitive soul though she rarely let it show, and whenever she was feeling nervous in the backseat of that car she would ask me to hold her hand and we would sing together. A few years later we were still singing together, but not without first hooking up our swings four inches from the tippy top of the swingset in our backyard. We'd climb up and swing back and forth, back and forth, and sing at the top of our lungs. My mom said the neighbors thought it was delightful, though perhaps they were just being kind.

That backyard was simply divine, with three huge sycamore trees, two apple trees, a beautiful birch, and loads of ladybugs and butterflies, birds, and bees, and spiders and furry critters. It also sported a large sandbox my father made for us, in which we built and buried all manner of castles and kingdoms.

It was the late 70s and my mother was aces at handling the budget, part of which included mandating which items were "for your father," and which items we were allowed to eat. Lunch every day for us was peanut butter and jelly (Welch's grape is still my top favorite today!) and potato chips were "for your father," so we weren't allowed to have them, but that doesn't mean we didn't. We were a little bit naughty and had great imaginations, so between us we developed what we called "The Secret Club," in which we did things we weren't allowed to do. At lunchtime we'd wait for mom to leave the kitchen and go talk on the phone or over the back fence with one of her friends and we'd sneak into the pantry with our sandwiches and carefully open my father's big old potato chip bag, taking out four or five chips each. We looked for the flattest, roundest ones so we could open our sandwiches and lay the chips inside, then slap down the top and sneak back to the table. This way the chips didn't crunch too loud when we ate them and mom wouldn't see them if she came back into the kitchen. Ah, the good old days. Sneakin' with your Sis!

One thing we loved to do in our Secret Club was pretend we had long hair. My mother was one who preferred to keep our hair short, and I was18 the first time I was able to refuse the required haircut. My Sis and I would prance around our bedroom before bedtime with the radio on and our bathrobe belts tied around our heads with the long ends dangling down. We'd flip them over our shoulders and bat our eyelashes, practicing how to be coy. We were cool beans indeed!

And another thing we loved to do at that time was play dressups. We did that for hours and hours, happy as clams, prancing around the backyard in gorgeous gowns gifted to us by my mother and sometimes her friends. My favorite was a red chiffon party dress and my sister's favorite was a lavender strapless evening gown. We aerated the lawn with high heels too big for our little feet and corralled some of the neighborhood kids to play too. Eventually we wrote little plays and staged them from behind flowered sheets curtaining the swing set. On occasion we performed for some of the adult neighbors, charging a nickle a piece, whenever my parents had informal company for dinner. I never noticed any eye-rolling going on; again, they were nothing but kind, laughing and clapping at our antics. 

We shared a room for all the years we were growing up save for the latter years of high school when I moved up to the attic to have private space in which to dream and paint and write. During the earlier years my sister became interested in music and since she was the oldest, she always got to choose the radio station in our room. We were lucky, living so close to New York, as we were able to get the very best in radio at the time, and I was entranced, listening to Allison Steele (that incomparable magical DJ) every night as we floated off to sleep. And sometimes when my mother went out without us, which was rare, we'd sneak into the dining room to play albums on the good stereo, which had the most wonderful speakers. Those are the times my sister introduced me to so many truly wonderful music artists, like Melissa Manchester, Janis Ian, Dan Fogelberg, Joni Mitchell, Cat Stevens, and a host of musicians and bands that I adore and always will. Sometimes we danced and sometimes at night we lit the oil lamp and wrote in our journals. I'm so grateful to my Sis for introducing me to these great musicians who've accompanied me through all the seasons of my life, all the happy times, the sad ones, the celebration times, and the healing times. Melinda continued to be a wonderful musical influence, gifting me with hours and hours of joy that I love to share with others and that feed my spirit (and my plants both indoors and out) when I'm alone. Thanks Mellie XO

Melinda was "my person" all throughout my life, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels that way, as she was a very nurturing soul. The kind who shoveled off her elderly neighbors' cars in winter when she lived in a condo alone. The kind who hosted gorgeous dinner parties where she cooked EVERYTHING from scratch and the recipes were not simple ones. The kind who started her dinner parties with appetizers and went through all the courses right through to cheeses, fruits, and fancy desserts, special coffees and liqueurs, all served on gorgeous dishes, drinks in fancy crystal and coffee in demitasse cups. We felt entirely spoiled every time we got to attend one of her parties. 

It was a very good year.

As we got older, into our late 50s she was still hosting holiday gatherings for the family, even though we started feeling our age and it wasn't so easy anymore. We all teased her unmercifully at one of the later Thanksgiving spreads because she was very organized and had labeled ALL the serving dishes with little post it notes while everything was cooking so she'd know which food went into which dish, and what was so unforgettably funny was that she had labeled the unmistakable gravy boat "gravy." Oh my, we had a hoot laughing over that one. Very thorough indeed, she was. Never missed a trick.

Mellie and her husband were the "winter holiday home" and Rob and I were the "summer barbecue home" because we had the big patio and pool outside for entertaining. So many sweet memories of family celebrations to hold dear. So much love!

She was a well-traveled, worldly diva of a woman with great taste in clothing, jewelry, shoes, and a love of girlie self-care things like manicures, pedicures, massages, and perfectly dressed hair. She held a Ph.D and her students called her Dr. Wilkins. Some knew her as "the queen," though Glynda, the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz was one of her favorite role models. Her students were NEVER bored. She was a feminist who, nonetheless, loved and respected men in the best ways she knew how. The legacy she created through her students over so many impressive years as an instructor of several subjects at Penn State lives on. She was awesome.

And now she is free. I am so proud of her courage, dignity, fierce determination, and grace as she navigated the challenges of the big C for almost three years. She finally earned her angel wings on September 6th after yet another stint in the hospital with pneumonia. While in ICU she was too sick for visitors except her beloved husband who rarely left her side. And too sick for phone calls too. So I texted her "holding your hand and singing until you feel better." I knew she'd understand that. 

On Wednesday she was discharged from the hospital and when she arrived home, oxygen in tow, she headed for her happy place, her home study. That night she slept next to her beloved husband at last. And by Thursday's dawn she was part of the heavens. God's blessing she went in her sleep.

That's my person!

Celebrating your love and your life Melinda. Thank you for all the everythings you brought, and continue to bring to our relationship. The love never, ever dies. And I feel your spirit soaring. Sweet journeys near and far my Love.

I'll see you on the Other Side XO!