“Pat, Elaine, Fernne.” So often I heard my mother call those names. She probably only wanted one of us but she automatically called all three.
Ours was a large family, consisting of his, hers and ours … as both my parents had been widowed.
Three of its members had been in the Second World War. Many of my childhood memories are of movies, war songs and of brown air mail letters. From the age of eight, I had corresponded with my brother who was in the army overseas. That correspondence lasted for many long years and developed into an enduring relationship. How he must have laughed over those first few hand printed letters, but he answered every one. After being wounded and repatriated he arrived home. It took a few minutes to get over my initial shyness, but soon he was teasing me again about my freckles and I was standing around admiring his dark hair and new moustache. Some years later those war wounds forced him into a military hospital and there, as he gave me a special salute, I said my goodbyes. I was soon to learn that life is full of goodbyes.
My sister Elaine and I were more than sisters, we were pals, sharing everything. We went to church together, we sang in the choir together and she would often play the piano in the living room and I would sing. Great memories! Then I left home, got married and she too got married. Then one day she died.
I sat at my desk in the church office where I was secretary, struck dumb by the announcement my husband had just made. It was impossible. She was only 38 years old. Sudden, unexpected death is a bewildering experience. It leaves you questioning life and your belief in God.
There were to be more goodbyes down the road, each one further shaping my personality and my faith. I realized that there is a price to pay for loving someone and often that price is grief … but we do have memories that sustain us.
My youngest daughter once fell crying into my arms when she sobbed out the announcement of a friend’s death. I thought of my first experience with death and I wiped her tears and comforted her. Someday I knew those tears would be for me. I pray that she will understand that grief is part of life, but our relationships and experiences with loved ones are well worth the price.
