The Eternity Following

It has been less than a month (less than three weeks, actually) since Patty passed away. It still feels unreal, yet I know in my heart it is not; she really is gone. Her son is doing OK, although he has had a rough time. Her ten-year old daughter has not seemed to yet feel the full weight of her mom's death, so we all wait and watch, fearful of the moment when it arrives and desperately concerned for her in the mean time.

Patty's memorial service and funeral were just "right" (if that word can really be applied in such a situation). There were pictures and memories shared, and just the right amount of irreverence, much like Patty herself. We will always miss her and wish she could have gotten over the leukemia and stayed with us. It is an ache that will dull in time but never fully heal, never completely dissipate; this is as it should be. My sister was such a vibrant and special part of our lives we will always feel diminished by not having her with us; we will always love and miss her.

I had a dream the other night. Patty was there - well at last, and happy - busy doing something for somebody, somehow. I felt this sweet, sweet pain in my heart as I went to her and hugged her, twice. The "hug" seemed so real to me I could still feel the pressure of it, and the love, upon waking from my dream although Patty was gone before I woke up. I miss her so much. I could have gone an entire lifetime worrying and trying to help out rather than having to lose her; the choice would have been so easy, but we were not given such an option.

During those last all too precious days and hours I asked one of the ICU nurses if finding comfort in singing to my sister was odd and she assured me it was not. Apparently there are a lot of people out there even more eccentric than I can be - I am not sure if that is comforting news or alarming news, but it was news to me, as well as a relief. So I sang to Patty; songs from our childhood, songs from favorite musicals - The Sound of Music, in particular - certain favorite hymns, and so on. Even my niece wanted to sing to her Mom and she chose "Cruella Deville" and "The Circle Game." We tried singing "Puff the Magic Dragon," together but we ended up messing each other up, so I tried to let my niece sing by herself knowing her Mom would want to hear her voice over mine any day of the week. We all cried and talked to Patty and hoped she could hear us and understand the love we had never conciously withheld that was spilling out of our hearts as she lay there, too ill to recover, too weakened to fight any longer, too beautiful for this world. We were all in her room the moment of her death, holding her and one another, and I was able to sing one of the songs from her wedding; I think it helped all of us to cry and let her go, finally, despite the desperate yearnings to beg her to stay with us longer. Her children were safe, she was there for her son's eighteenth birthday both in body and in spirit, and she had her family surrounding her and loving her as she died.

I never thought I would be the one saying "good bye" to either of my younger sisters. "She who declines to be named" has been ordered to stay healthy until at least her 93rd birthday. As much as love hurts during these times, it also strengthens and comforts, carrying us through the rest of life despite such crushing blows. I would not trade it for anything.

May all of you be having happier times and may all of you also be at peace with one another and the world at large.

Love, Izzlebug