My Sisters, Lifelong Friends

(Note:  For my eldest and only brother, who will always have a special place reserved in my heart; who has been there whenever I’ve needed him and who I know would be if ever I needed him again.)

From the time when I was very young, I was fortunate to have three of the very best lifelong friends I could ever hope for. I didn’t necessarily choose them or meet them by chance. Life’s circumstances didn’t bring us together and we weren’t drawn to each other by common interests or personality types. Throughout our lives, we have had our differences, have grown apart by distance or other outside influences but have never strayed too far, and in our heart-of-hearts, know we are bonded together, forever. These lifelong friends are my sisters, and we have been “stuck” together from my very earliest recollections.

When I was growing up, as far back as I can remember, four of us girls shared one bedroom in a modest-sized ranch home. I don’t know how we did it, four girls in one room. Today, four people can barely live in a whole house together without thinking they don’t have enough space. Children today “need” their own bedrooms. Not only did we share a bedroom, but our home only had one bathroom for seven people, a thing almost unheard of in today’s society (as most know it) However did we survive? (How did my brother survive with four girls? No wonder he left and joined the Navy after he graduated!)

We all had to learn, at a very early age, how to get along and share with each other. I marvel at our living situation now and also our parents, who had to be the most patient people on the planet. Aside from being tolerant themselves, they taught us how to appreciate what we had and not think we were missing out on anything. I don’t believe we ever knew any other way but to be accepting and get along. It was the way of things.

Once my brother left home, my oldest sister inherited his room and then there were three of us who shared one room. When she left, it was the next in line and so on. Since I was the last one, I never did inherit “the” room. Eventually, I just ended up with my own room my default.

My thoughts of growing up are only fond ones which I could write a “once upon a time” story to. It wasn’t all perfect of course, but the memories of my childhood truly are rosy, growing up in a loving home with a close-knit family. Our parents were the two most loving, supportive people we could ever hope for and we were the fortunate ones to have them. I don’t know why. I still marvel at this today when I think of how special they were; for all of us to grow up in a loving home with devoted parents. We ate our meals together, spent holidays together, celebrated birthdays together. We did things as a family, shared as a family, grew, played, laughed and loved as a family. I remember sitting in the cold brook with my sisters out back making clay mud pies, rolling down our hill in a barrel, swimming down to the lake, ice skating on the pond in the back field, sledding, riding in the boat, snowmobiling, sharing the minibike and riding my horses (sometimes falling off at very inopportune times – like the side of a busy road). Countless memories and the many trips we took together or just the Sunday afternoon rides to go for ice cream.

Growing up and being the youngest I often sought the sage advice of my sisters. I learned much of the essential “girl” things I needed to know from them along with many non-essential things I probably wasn’t supposed to know about. My parents may have been the greatest people in the world but they were also brought up in the age where kids didn’t discuss feelings or share every detail of their lives like they do today. If I needed to know the answers, I relied on the people who had already had the experiences.

I won’t deny we fought as children because we were so very different (as much as I make it sound as if our lives were a storybook). I don’t know how many times I heard, “I’m telling Mom,” or how many times I might have said those words myself. I found an old diary I kept back in the 70’s (I think I was about 10). In one of my excerpts I talk about my sister closest to me in age. Part of it reads: “She thinks she’s so big around everybody and swears in front of them. Big Deal! I could throw up sometimes when she talks to them. I always leave because I don’t want to listen to her. She always asks to have a cigarette just when they come so she can act big. She always calls me stingy because I don’t give her things. She always hogs everything. If she ever tells on me (about what I don’t know) I will tell Mom (maybe) that she smokes. She calls me a baby when she always tells Momma everything I do because she can’t take care of her own problems.” To my knowledge, I never told on my sister. Whatever our petty differences, there were some trusts you just didn’t break, so matter how annoyed you got with each other.

My sisters and I have always tried to accept each other for the way we are; good, bad, happy, miserable; whatever our circumstances. My sisters don’t always agree with my decisions and I don’t always agree with theirs. They have tried to give me advice throughout my life (sometimes I wish I would have listened more often), but whether I do heed their advice or not they are there to support me in happiness and in sorrow – never to pass judgment; never to sit back and say “I told you so.” They don’t revel in my disappointments but are the first ones to be there to offer comfort when things do fall apart. Like my parents, their only wish is to see me happy and my greatest comfort is having no doubt of this; no doubt of their unconditional love. This is what we were taught; family sticks together and is what matters. Family is who will be there for you when the rest of the world is nowhere to be found. Family is who you love no matter what the outside influences of the world might throw at you. You forgive, move on and let go, remembering those bonds you forged as children.

My sisters have been there in my greatest joys; all members of my wedding party, celebrating one of the happiest days of my life. They were supportive during all three of my pregnancies and were each, in their own way, instrumental through the births and lives of my children. My sisters have offered comfort in my greatest sorrows, including the devastating death of my husband and the loss of our father. They have helped me through hardships I wouldn’t have been able to endure on my own. When I had to sell my home, they were all there pitching in however they could, whether it was financially, helping me move or both. A year later, in-between rentals, it was one of my sisters who let me move in with her for several months until I figured out where the next phase of my life would take me.

When our mother was dying of cancer, we all took turns staying with her (along with my brother), so she could remain at home. We worked together to clean out our family home. Where other families get torn apart over material items, we made it a game of sorts. I recall my brother dumping piles of items from the closet in the middle of living room floor for us to sort through or all of us “drawing lots” to see who got Mom’s car. We might have had our share of internal grumblings, but nothing that ever came close to harming our relationships. Too many relationships are destroyed by external forces or by wounds which aren’t allowed to heal.

I do find it sad when I hear about broken relationships in families, especially those among sisters because our bonds have always been so strong. I don’t know what tears families apart or why some never make that same kind of connection we have. Apart from my petty annoyances and normal growing pains and disagreements with my sisters growing up, I don’t remember feeling hate or resentment towards them. Certainly nothing I would ever hang on to, (except in old journal notes I can now read which make me laugh). I don’t believe there was ever any place for such a thing in our home. We depended on each other and learned from each other. We wore each others hand-me-downs. (Egads! I remember my mother’s sewing stage and some of the frightening clothes we wore). I think of my sisters and how precious they all are to me.

The four of us have been on numerous trips together, creating some of the best memories I will always hold near and dear. These are the precious things which are irreplaceable; those special times spent with the people who know you best. With our mother gone all these years, I often think of the trips we took to Florida and I am so grateful for the opportunity I was given to spend time with her and my three sisters. Perhaps with our own expanding families we find it more difficult to get away together, but we still find a way for periodic family functions; we call on a regular basis to check up on each other and meet for an occasional sister Sunday afternoon coffee or, since we all love to gamble, we might all venture to the casino to see who can lose the most money.

Throughout my life, this is the way it has been. I won’t say there haven’t been a few wrinkles here and there because there have been. And those times have been very, very painful. But we always mend. That’s what family does – that’s what sisters do; they love each other unconditionally; accept each other for who they are and realize each is different but each is an integral piece of the whole which makes up the family, the memories, the love on which the foundation of our lives have been established.

Perhaps ours is a unique relationship. I can’t speak for all sisters. Maybe, my sisters and I just learned from two incredible people how important it is to accept and make time for family and those who truly love you. We enjoy each others company. We like each other. I find, after all these years, being in the company of my sisters still is a place which brings me a sense of joy, comfort and reassurance. No matter where I am in my life or what’s going on, it is the place which always brings me a true sense of home. My sisters mean the world to me. Their love, friendship, unceasing commitment and bond to family has remained unbroken through the course of our lifetime. I love them all so very much.