an incomplete list…
Pam was the family memory and historian. She delved into our genealogy tracing us back as far as the 900s but more than that she was the person I always went to to confirm a memory or ask a question about growing up in our house or about our parents. Now that resource is gone and with it so much of my own history because my memory is shit.
She knew how to make anything, everything. We’d be out at some craft fair and if I showed interest in buying some sort of personal hand made product she would whisper in my ear that that person is charging too much for that, I’ll send you the recipe.
I haven’t bought soap in decades because she made our soap. When my supply runs out I’ll have to start buying soap.
I haven’t made pralines in three years because I haven’t had pecans. I have some this year but the only time I was successful was when I did it at her house, in her kitchen, with her.
She was an herb gardener and every spring she would start her herb garden anew. Whatever fresh herb, or dried herb or spice for that matter, I needed when I was cooking I could just walk across the street and get it.
She kept the fence line in front of her house clear of weeds and vines which out here in the county is a monumental task that I now have to attend to.
I don’t have anyone to go to estate sales or art/craft shows with.
I no longer have someone I can vent to about certain people.
She was the one person I would exchange gifts with during the holiday season mainly because she refused to not get me anything no matter how many times I suggested it. I have her present here but she died before I could give it to her. She was a tea aficionado and had a small collection of teapots. This one is an antique cast iron one cup teapot. Now what do I do with it?
We would often, when we were going on an outing, show up in the same shorts and if not the same shirt, the same color shirt. Unplanned of course.
No one will tell me now that my sister and I look alike, a fact that always amused the hell out of us as she was blond blue eyed with straight hair and I have brown hair and eyes and wavy unreasonable hair.
Maybe you'd like to try your hand at making some of the things Pam was so good at? Use the little teapot yourself? Just thoughts. She was lovely, and I'm glad I knew her via blogging.
ReplyDeleteI'm a coffee drinker, not tea and as for the other, yeah, no. we have/had different talents. though I may make another attempt at pralines.
DeleteNot really the same but I felt (and still feel) the same way about certain things since the person I did those things with died. I could make soap with Kathleen in her house, in her kitchen, with her. I tried once on my own and it was a miserable failure. I would always go to a certain Christmas event with my friend Lynn and haven't been since she died. My friend Sue and I loved the same books and would compare notes and thoughts on them. I have no one who can do that now.
ReplyDeleteI've always thought that we share parts of ourselves with those we love that we share with no one else and that when those people die, they take those parts of us with them. I think this is true, Ellen, and it must be especially true when you lose a sister to whom you were so very close.
I don't know if she took a part of me with her but there sure is a big hole in my life now. it's lonelier without her. well, fuck. now I'm crying again.
DeleteOh Ellen, I am so moved by this. I can imagine that even if you were to take on some of these activities, she so wonderfully excelled in, it would have to be simply in her memory and not necessarily for continuation. And that it' just too hard yet. But I hope you can try, maybe just pick one or two. As for the teapot, what a gift! To you as well, because now you can use it for that special cup once in a while when you want to spend time with your memories of her. You don't have to drink tea, the pot holds all liquids.
ReplyDeleteyes, I'll keep the teapot. I had thought I would take one of hers as a remembrance. funny that it should be the one she never had. right now it's sitting on the bookcase. I probably won't ever use though.
DeleteI am so sorry she's gone. You've lost so much, so many people wrapped up in your sister. I never had that sort of relationship with my brother, any relationship really. This has left a hole in your heart that will take some time to hurt less.
ReplyDeleteI was never close to our brother. he was the baby and he and I never got along. it was my sister that sort of held us together and kept me connected to him. now I have to make more of an effort. I think he's probably just as indifferent to me as I am to him.
DeleteTHanks so much for sharing these thoughts. A step in healing in your grieving process, and very worthy indeed. I think looking like a relative tends to be something about the shape of the face, chin, nose, even brows. Not always coloration.
ReplyDeleteit was a tearful writing.
DeleteI miss her too. She was one of a kind.
ReplyDeletethat she was.
DeleteI think I know how you feel. My sister and I were not as close, but I lost the one person in the world who knew me the longest. W ould exchange a glance or a quirk of the mouth and know immediately what the other was thinking. I am so sorry for you pain. I have no other siblings and my mother made sure e never forged binding relationships with friends. She was opposed to competition. That sounds mean and I don't really mean it that way.
ReplyDeleteI have a brother but we've never been close and he live up in the PNW. my sister is the one who held us together. I guess now I'm going to have to make more of an effort.
DeleteI never forged any binding relationships with friends either. my sister did but by the time I got to high school life in our house was very different with my parents ostracized from their social group (she was accused of being the other woman in an infidelity with their best friend's husband. she claimed innocence, said she knew who it was but wasn't telling. yeah, sure) and they saw me and the friendships I might make as their way back in to that social scene. problem was I didn't like any of those snooty kids and they didn't like me and my parents wouldn't allow me to be friends with the kids I liked because they didn't live in the right neighborhood or their fathers didn't have the right job.
37paddington: What a sister she was! She can never be replaced. But how wonderful to have had such a companion of this journey through life, a person with whom you could be your fullest, truest self. I’m sorry you are aching with this loss, but how could you not. She would have loved that teapot. I look at it and can see how much you loved her and will always love her.
ReplyDeleteand the thing is we were not close at all as children. there were no girls my age in our remote spread out neighborhood so I wanted to hang out with my big sister and the neighbor girl her age and my sister was having none of it. had no use for a younger by three years sister. it wasn't until we were grown that we started to get close.
DeleteThis hurts my heart for you. She was such a hoot and a good sister to you.
ReplyDeleteshe was in many ways.
DeleteKeep the teapot on one of your memory shelves. It was the last gift she couldn't wait for. You will miss her forever and ever.
ReplyDeleteI have it sitting on my bookcase currently. I've picked up several small things of hers from the house and have them sitting around. I really missed her Wednesday evening when I needed to talk about something and she wasn't there.
Deleteand I'm sure she already had her gift for me but I have no idea what it might have been. it's probably in the house somewhere but even if I run across it I won't know.
DeleteYou will cope, Ellen; in fact you will be fine, but you will never quite overcome the loss. May the memory of your sister be a blessing.
ReplyDeleteOh, I know. It's just hard right now.
DeleteYou were lucky to have such a wonderful relationship with your sister and to be living so close to her too! My sister is near me too and we always meet up after family get-togethers to hash over all the details!
ReplyDeleteOf course you will miss her and that's because she was such a treasure. Celebrate the happy times you had together.
yes, I was but the funny thing is that we were not close at all as children me being 3 years younger and wanted to tag long after her. I was a pest she was always shooing away. not until we were grown did we become close.
DeleteI'm sure these losses will continue to strike you from time to time. It's a huge life change, after all. I agree with Joanne -- keep the teapot, on your sister's behalf.
ReplyDeletedefinitely a big hole in my life right now. and yes, keeping the teapot.
DeleteI sure enough would keep that teapot. Even if you don't like tea, repurpose it as a vase. I can imagine everything from fresh flowers to dried grasses in it. It's already holding memories.
ReplyDeleteyes, it's sitting on my bookcase currently. maybe I'll fill it with little things that remind me of her.
DeleteI lost Mom in 2014, Dad in 2018, sister in 2021. There are still questions I think of that I wish I could ask Mom and Dad about. Sister - we weren't close at all. No fight, we simply went our separate ways. I still think about her, but not in a "I miss her soooo much" way, more of a wish some of her decisions over the years had turned out better for her.
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't "do" anything with the tea pot. Keep it as is as a fond memory that won't require work other than a bit of dusting. Not work like weeding the fence or learning to do the things she did, though those might be more therapeutic. I wouldn't put fresh flowers in without a liner, it might turn to a rusty mess. Perhaps use it for things like small kitchen utensils, pens, etc.?
I still have a younger brother who lives in the PNW but we aren't close. it was our sister that bonded the three of us. he would come visit her/us every other year. I wonder if he'll come visit now that she's gone.
DeleteI would keep that teapot, use it, and imagine I was having a cup of tea with her from time to time. I would close my eyes and silently ask her what she thinks about something, and visualize her replying. It would comfort me.
ReplyDeleteI do the latter some mornings with my mom, who's been gone 18 years now, and sometimes she gives me helpful insight or advice. Is it really her? I don't know for sure, but it feels real even though I don't hear her with my ears or see her with my eyes.
I still miss her and always will. But I'll take my comforts where I can find them.
Words don't really lift the weight, do they, but if they could there'd be some on their way to you right now.
-Kate
-Kate
As I read this I am nodding my head - so much resonates .
ReplyDeleteMy husband died in March - and I find that I don’t want this life without him
Siobhan x