A Farewell Letter to My Sister

Dear Dyan, It is with a heavy heart…Boy, does that sound cliché but you get it, and, yes, I know, written words don’t make sounds. See, I’m continuing to learn from you even though you’re gone. Oh wait, you’re not gone, it’s just your body that’s missing. Wrong again. It’s not missing. You’re in a frigid holding cell waiting to be cremated.

Where am I going with this letter?  Give me a minute and I’ll connect my thoughts.

Okay, I’m back and I’m ready.

My purpose of this letter is to say how much I enjoyed being your sister and that I’ll miss you with a profound depth I didn’t realize my soul possessed. You were a rare gem, a shining light in a world darkened by the daily burdens we all carry.

Even ovarian cancer didn’t hold you down. Despite the pain your body suffered you greeted everyone you met with a beaming smile and sincere desire to know their story. You touched too many hearts to count.

Our time together was too short, shortened still by our sisterly squabbles. Like a couple of spitting kittens we battled but we always managed to find our way back to each other, our love for one another stronger for having snipped and scratched with our tiny claws and teeth.

You were my confident, my guru, the one who always knew the wise advice I needed, although many times not heeded…sorry, I’m a slow learner.

I will miss our chats over tea and lemon donuts; I will miss the smell of your perfume. I will miss your smile and the softness of your skin. And most of all, I will miss your laughter. If the universe set out to create a song of the gods, your laughter was the result.

Dearest Dyan, I will miss you. Oh, I know you’re with me still, but, damn, just one more time to hear you say hello when I call your number, that’s all I’m asking.

Silly, I know. You have better things to do than answer my call. You’re with Ma and Romeo and you’re all walking along the shore of some sandy beach. Your body is healed and whole once again. Your legs are strong and Romeo is barking for you to throw a stick.

Go, play with him. And give Ma a hug from me. Soon enough I’ll be there with you.

Farewell, my immortal beloved. Farewell.

June, 1951 – November, 2019

Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.

About tinthia

Wondering, searching, and wandering, I'm a single mother with a desire to get it right in my lifetime. The flow of the river feeds my inner goddess and fuels my soul. Blessed be. :}
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9 Responses to A Farewell Letter to My Sister

  1. I lost a dear brother about two week ago. I understand the grief of a great loss.

  2. My sympathies–losing a loved one is never easy no matter how prepared you think you are. Sending good thoughts your way.

  3. Michelle says:

    Cynthia,

    I found the card you gave me with this blog link on my desk this morning and came across this lovely post. Dyan is someone I will never forget. I have thought of her, her genuine heart, and her laugh that you mention often over the past week. I feel fortunate to have met her (although I wish I met her for a different reason). She will always be close to my heart and I’m glad she is no longer in pain. I know she is somewhere better than here looking over us all (with pink lipstick on of course). I’m so sorry for your loss.

    Love,
    Michelle

    • tinthia says:

      Michelle, words cannot convey the gratitude I have for you and the team at the chem center. The care you all gave Dyan not only helped to keep her alive for three years but it also brought her great joy. I truly believe she is joyful and healthy (no Fred poking out of her stomach) and, yes, wearing the hottest pink lipstick the Universe allows. High heels too, man, she rocked her heels back in the day. I wish you joy for your upcoming wedding and a lifetime of love. Love, Cindy

  4. Carrie says:

    I was one of the fortunate humans to know your beautiful sister through the years. We met because of our deep love for our pugs. We used to laugh at how crazy in love we were with Romeo and Miles. We cried when we had to say goodbye. We laughed and cried some more. Then there were tough times with illness. Dyan always shined that “pilot light” even in the midst of her struggles. She really inspired me more than words can express and I’m so thankful to have known her. What a kind, funny and amazing human! May you find comfort in knowing how many people she touched. -Carrie

    • tinthia says:

      Hello Carrie, thank you for your amazing comments about Dyan. She was an amazing, classy, joyful woman and continues to shine (in her pink lipstick) from above. I imagine her at the ocean playing with Romeo. Again, thank you for taking the time to write your caring thoughts.

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