My beautiful older sister will always be a part of me.
She was both the worst enemy and greatest friend of my childhood. She was cool, and sometimes my hero,
6 year old Lynda
Of course I wanted to be just like her. Other times I hid quietly in the attic so I wouldn’t feel her wrath of her fists. We had a see-saw relationship throughout our lives.
Lynda gave me a home when I needed one, and…
My beautiful older sister will always be a part of me.
She was both the worst enemy and greatest friend of my childhood. She was cool, and sometimes my hero,
Of course I wanted to be just like her. Other times I hid quietly in the attic so I wouldn’t feel her wrath of her fists. We had a see-saw relationship throughout our lives.
Lynda gave me a home when I needed one, and helped me find my way to “launch” … then was angry with me when I went. As I was finding my own way I had to push her away when she tried to tell me how to live my life,
But later when we were both truly grown up we finally became the friends we might have always been, but for a better childhood.
Lynda had survived the worst childhood by far of any of the original seven because she couldn’t let what was broken alone. She stood up and fought for herself when no one else would. In the process, she taught me the cruelest lesson of my childhood: the only way to live through it was *not* to fight. Lynda was a fighter, and fighting a losing battle. So I learned to swallow my pride & pain & let it slide.
I will always treasure the relationship we had, good and bad, especially the good we had in later life when we finally became the friends we should always have been. By this time I knew I was a fighter too, but I could fight for anyone else, almost never for myself.
When Lynda got sick, at least I knew she was a fighter. I couldn’t believe it when I realized she had chosen *not* to fight. Instead of following medical advice, she decided to put her faith in carrot juice and religion, tantamount to giving up, I was shocked beyond belief. I couldn’t believe it. Then was angry she was giving up, that she was leaving me. I tried so hard to convince Lynda — of all people — that she had to fight for herself. But all I got back was an infuriating Mona Lisa smile. She wouldn’t even fight with me,
It was too soon to lose her. I wasn’t ready. I was afraid to lose my wonderful infuriating big sister.
I am afraid Lynda was just tired. Tired of having to fight. Almost always by herself. For everything. Always.
I couldn’t really accept it the last time I saw her in the hospital, but at least I could let her know I loved her, and she could let me know she forgave me.
I wish so many things had been different. I couldn’t really accept it until after she was gone. I wish I had been different. And I wish I had been able to be a better sister to her. I wish I could have stood up for her when we were young, and most of all, I wish I had been able to get past my anger and fear to be there for her at the end.
I will always love her. And I miss her still.
