Lynda Lou Russwurm Glendenning Pearson
April 25th, 1956 — May 13th, 2010
I try to avoid publishing about living people who are not in the public eye, so as not to infringe on their privacy. I often publish obituaries of people I admire (as I’ve just done with Peter Mayhew), and I’d like to take this opportunity to write a little something about my older sister I admired.
Yesterday was the 9th anniversary anniversary of Lynda’s passing.
As a child, I thought Lynda would always be older, but as it happens I’m older now. We were three years apart, and in many ways she was both my hero and my nemesis. Having a three and a half year head start, she was always better at everything than I was.
Lynn and Laura had seven kids, and all of us were saddled with double L names. Lynda’s middle name was Lou and she *hated* it. When Mom would call her in for supper, she’d bellow “Lynda Lou” and Lynda hated it so much it was a miracle she ever came home.
Lynda was very strong willed, which caused her no end of problems through her life. As a child, she very much wanted a dog, but our mother wouldn’t hear of it. I had assumed that had always been the case, but a few years ago I learned my older brother had had a dog when he was a child. Apparently it was too much trouble, and one day he came home from kindergarten and it was gone. So Mom was adamant.
But Lynda wanted a dog. And one day she found a German Shepherd. She spent the afternoon playing with it, and when it was time to go home for dinner, she decided to bring it home with her. So she tied a rope around its neck and tried to make it come, but the dog had other ideas. She carried the horseshoe shaped scar from the dog bite on her forearm for the rest of her life. But that didn’t discourage her. One day she came home with a caged mouse she named Snoopy (after the Peanuts dog), and incredibly our parents allowed it to stay (although the cage was consigned to the basement). But that wan’t the same as actually having a real dog. When she was 13 she came home with a German Shepherd puppy she’d bought with her own money. If my memory is correct, she refused to say where she’d bought him so he couldn’t be returned. And he wasn’t. Kelly was never allowed in the house, and he became the family dog. And we were about to move out of the city to a rural home anyway.
Sometimes her strong will prevailed, but other times, not so much. She was almost always in conflict with our mother. Everything was a fight. But it wasn’t her fault. Our mother had a catastrophic mental illness which our father didn’t understand, and had no idea how to cope with. The consensus is that she was an undiagnosed schizophrenic, but she may as easily have been BiPolar, or Thyroid disease. Whatever it was, there was no talking to her when she was in a delusional state. Something else about Mom that I only realized until much later, is that her emotional growth had been stunted since the onset of her disease. The upshot is that even when she wasn’t crazy, the mother-daughter fights were so epic because Mom wasn’t mature enough to be the grown-up.
At the age of 16 our parents kicked Lynda out of the house after she’d pushed Mom down in a fight that became physical. Lynda inadvertently taught me not to engage in doomed fights with Mom if I wanted to finish high school. Lynda went on welfare and tried to finish high school, but it didn’t happen. Although later she finished high school by correspondence course, eventually going to college.
Lynda always had a plan and a get-rich-quick scheme or two. Her ideas and great energy might have better served her had she grown up in a less chaotic family. We all have baggage from our upbringing (or lack of), but Lynda unquestionably had it the worst. But she always did her best.
When I couldn’t live in my mother’s house anymore, Lynda offered me a home, without ever asking anything in return. She encouraged and helped me get post secondary education, but was angry with me for deciding to leave her to go live with roommates near the college. Our relationship after that was up & down,
Lynda was fiercely loyal, and very invested in family. Although she and I split the cost, it was Lynda’s idea to send our Dad and Stepmom to Germany so he could meet his mother’s last surviving sister.
After her second marriage broke up, now that we were both real grownups, we became closer than we’d ever been. I cherished having her in my life.
I cherished having her friendship.
But then she was diagnosed with cancer. She refused medical cancer treatment in favor of health food, and so cancer won. My own regret is that I saw so little of her in her last year because I was angry at her for giving up and we fought.
I stopped being angry at Lynda for leaving me, but I’ll always be a little angry at myself for losing her before I had to. And now I think I understand.
Lynda spent her life fighting. She was always fighting for what she believed was right. (Even when it wasn’t.) I think she just got tired. And she didn’t have the support of a spouse (as I do). She didn’t have the energy to fight anymore; she wanted the peace of the promised afterlife.
Although we fought a lot, I always knew she had my back.
To this day I miss her.
(Note: if you find yourself in any of my published photos and would prefer not to be, let me know)