Grief Therapy

Late winter, 1956:  What was this living, breathing thing that took up occupancy in the newly reconstructed crib in the living room?  And, more importantly, when was it going away?  It took all of Mommy and Daddy’s attention and left me to my own amusement.  Well, at least I had Funny Sonny, my favorite clown doll, and Grandpa P., who I was sure still loved me.  The new arrival slept a lot but when it was awake, it cried and drank milk from bottles that I was not allowed to touch and sometimes, often, it spit up.  People visited and cooed at it and said things to my parents like, “Oh, what a beautiful, blonde baby girl!” or “What courage.  You had another one!”  Mommy and Daddy explained to me that this thing was called a little sister, and no, she was not going away.  So, this little sister became a permanent part of my life and I grew to love her more than I could have ever imagined.  But, she did go away -- 58 years later, and I miss her terribly. 

This hole in my heart seems to be getting larger, instead of smaller. Today it is three weeks since that fateful day when she died. A part of myself disappeared on April 4, 2014 and I am now changed in such a way that I will never be the same.  I want to move on with my life but I am just so profoundly, heavily sad. 

But my little sister’s sense of humor is legendary and I want to try to remember the happy things, as I truly believe that she would want me to.  These are some memories of our early days; I will share more as I think of them.

1. To save time, as small children (I was about five, I guess, and Judi was about two and a half) my mother had us take baths together. It was usually fun; sometimes there would even be bubbles.  We had plastic toys designated especially for bath time and we would love to splash and play until the water got cold.  One rare night, my father was assigned as bath giver and that was the night that Judi pooped in the tub.  Upon seeing the floater, I remember leaping over her and out of that tub as fast of lightening.  I slipped on the bathroom floor in panic.  She sat there in the water, laughing hysterically, the little imp.

2. As we got a little older, we bickered a lot.  One long day, my mother could stand it no more.  So, routinely whenever this happened, we were separated – punished, banished to our adjacent and respective bedrooms for some peace and quiet for Mom.  For some reason, the imposed imprisonment and not being allowed to talk to each other made us friends again as we joined forces in plotting against the common enemy – Mom.  Our revenge was hatched as we darted into the hallway and slipped notes under each other’s doors or whispered to each other through sneakily cracked doorway openings.  Oh, the schemes were diabolical: let’s refuse to eat her cooking, let’s steal her chocolate stash (we both knew that she hid it under her pillow), we’ll report to Daddy how mean she is to us, we can hide her slippers, unplug the washer, run away from home.  But, we just usually ended up promising to get along, paid our acts of contrition and we were released into the freedom of the neighborhood to find other kids to play with – outside.  One Christmas, Santa brought us wall phones that connected our rooms together with a wire.  They were a only a step up from talking through tin cans on a string but they made it much easier to plot our schemes of retaliation.

3.  Judi was a trusting soul and I learned early that I owned the big sister advantage.  In addition to tricking her into to doing my chores and dirty work for the privilege of my presence, I am not proud to say that I would sometimes play nasty tricks on her.  One Sunday, in preparation for one of the frequent visits from the Garbarini clan (this was BA – before Alice), our parents were occupied elsewhere in the house and we were left to our own devices in the kitchen.  Santa had recently given me a tiny, battery-operated blender.  It was maroon with a turquoise base (so 1950s)… I remember that.  The lid was white.  “Let’s make something!” I declared. Little sister immediately agreed that it would be a good idea.  We raided the fridge for a little of this and a little of that – ketchup, mayonnaise (so far not bad, just Russian dressing) lemon juice, milk, chocolate syrup, tonic water, bleu cheese and Tabasco sauce.  Yes, I think that about covers it.  “Now take a sip, “ I told her.  Without hesitation, she did, and it was a big trusting gulp.  “Yuck!” She threw the doll-sized toy blender container on the counter and left me to clean up the spill as she ran down the hall, headed for the bathroom.  She did not quite make it to her destination and showered the hallway wall with our secret recipe.  Mom assumed that she was sick with a virus and she was quarantined in her room in an attempt to confine her germs while I got to frolic and play the afternoon away with my cousins.  She never ratted me out.

More to come.