My Life Six Years Ago - Concluded (yet still contiuring)

A little history may need to be in order to explain the relevancy of the words, Vincent Sheik. As I was growing up in the small rural town of Oklahoma I called home, one of the beauties was the fact that most everyone knew everyone. This was also a curse at times, yet that is another story. Being the youngest in my family meant that I gave my older sister and brother grief at times for various reasons. My sister mainly because I was just young enough to be nothing more than a nuisance when I wanted to tag along with her and her friends . My brother because I always thought his friends were cute, well at least most of them.

One in particular caught my eye at a very early age. He was tall and had hair that was the color of ready to harvest wheat. His name… of course was Vincent Sheik. I knew at the ripe age of 7 that I wanted to marry that boy one day. Although at that age I don’t know if I knew exactly what that really meant. He was my brothers’ best friend and so he was a mainstay in our household. Although I was not sure if he ever even noticed me I was able to gaze upon him with those lovesick puppy eyes. As the years passed he grew even more in height and good looks. Yet life seemed to take us both into different directions and one hot day in 1980 as I watched him from the kitchen window of my brothers’ home working in the back yard with my brother, I realized that the dream I had as a 7 year old girl was probably not going to come true. 

He had already married another and moved on with his life and I had been far too timid to have ever given him any inclination of my true feelings. So I bid him adieu yet always kept a tiny ember alive deep inside me as still I had that feeling that he was my true love. So when I hear his name spoken that day in my mother’s living room during the gathering for my sister’s funeral, it once more brought that ember alive so to speak although it had been almost 25 years since I had last laid eyes on him.

I rose from chair I had claimed as my sanctuary and proceeded to go to the front porch to see this man whom had held this tender piece of my heart for so long. He looked no different than last I saw him, although in truth he had aged by almost 25 years and put on a few pounds. He was talking to my brother when I arrived and as he turned to greet me, he grabbed me and hugged me like I do not think I had ever been hugged before. His tall 6 foot 5 stature embraced me and seemed to completely engulf me. I did not want the feeling to end. It took the grief that I had been feeling only moments before and completely seemed to make it dissipate to nothing. His smile shown down on me and wrapped me in a blanket that has not since been taken off of my shoulders.

He stayed for hours and visited. What others had tried so hard to do he managed to accomplish in a instant. He had finally gotten me to smile and to somehow shake a little of the heartache that had been looming about me. The next couple days were so much more tolerable because of his presence. From the moment we saw each other we became inseparable. I found myself feeling guilty somewhat because I was so happy at a time when I should be more remorseful. However as time passed I realized that in some way my sister had brought us together.

Vincent and I have been together ever since that day. We truly have been inseparable. The tiny little ember that was still alive deep within me is a blazing fire today. Those dreams that danced about in the heart and mind of that little 7 year old girl knew exactly what she wanted and what eventually she would have. The timing was just a bit off.

Each year at this time I stop and think about my sister Rosie and what she gave me before and what she still gives me today. I still miss her just as much as I did back then. I still keep her phone numbers on my cell phone although I know that if I were to call them that a totally different person would answer. I still talk to her as if she were with me still. And more than anything I still thank her for being my big sister and giving me the man I have always truly loved. One can find goodness even in one’s darkest hour. And although we do not always understand all the reasons that life takes the twists and turns that it does sometimes, there is an eventual outcome. Sometime what we see as the worst things to occur as time passes and we reflect back onto their memories we may look at them in a totally different perspective.

Yes, Rosie was a fighter. Yes, she loved life and those around her. Yet she was not without her share of trials and struggles. Her life was not always a happy one and she had endured much pain. She held it back well and covered it with the mask of smiles that we Morrison women wear so well. Yet deep inside, she carried some deep wounds. I like to think that she is in a happier place now. I am sure she wears a beautiful pair of wings that often wrap around others to shield and protect them from some of the harms that fell her way as a child as well as a woman. I have often felt sad as I do not feel that I sense her presence as much as I would like to. Yet as time has passed I have come to realize that the reason for this is probably because she knows I am ok. She gave me my gift when she departed. She gave me Vince to take care of me and watch over me in her absence. She is off taking care of those who do not have the blessing that I was given. She is taking care of those who are alone. She is someone else’s big sister, someone else’s angel.

My Life Six Years Ago - Part Two

I walked about in a daze the rest of the evening. I think the only thing I managed to do was make a few calls to my kids to give them the news. I do not even remember if I cried. Being the repressor I am most of those memories were tucked safely away so that I did not and do not need to recount them.

The next day for some reason, who knows why, I went to work. I stumbled about in somewhat of a haze. Trying to gather and organize things for when I was gone. I remember sitting at my desk somewhat scattered brained when a friend came and asked me what was wrong. I broke down and blurted out that my sister had passed the night before. She looked at me in her stern way and asked me what the hell I was doing at work. I didn’t know what to say; some way of keeping my life normal perhaps. She promised to take care of things and urged me to go home which I did.

Now one thing I should put in here is that at this time in my life I was driving 150 miles each way to and from work each day. I had chosen to move back and help my daughter out who had a baby and was putting herself through nursing school. When I arrived back home I packed my bags and started out to my mother’s home which was another 150 miles away. The time on the road alone gave me a lot of time to think. I am not sure if it was a smart thing for me to be on the road when I was in such a state, yet with someone watching over me, I managed to travel safely at all times.

When I reached my mother’s home I was greeted by other family members and friends. The usual activities were in high swing and my main concern was to help my mother to cope with everything. She is not a woman who shows her feelings well or really enjoys others around when and if she does. I knew that this commotion would be driving her crazy. I managed to clear the house of most of those who did not necessarily need to be there. I thanked them for their concern and well wishes and sent them on their way. The silence was a blessing.

The same routine continued for the remainder of the day as well as into the next day. It is not that I did not appreciate the well meaning words and comfort that was being offered by those who come to offer their comfort; it was just that at this time in my life I was alone with no significant other and therefore no one to lean on when times might get a bit rough. I am not what one would call someone who easily opens up to any who I do not feel overly comfortable with. So much of my grief was being forced to be kept inside of myself until I had a moment to somehow sort and deal with it on my own.

I talked casually with those who came by yet finally I had had my fill and went and sat down in a chair in the living room. I remember at that moment feeling like the world was never going to ever be the same for me again. My big sister was gone; the one who was always there for me and who I felt that I could talk and confide in about anything. We had just begun a journey that felt like it would have brought us so much closer together and now it was over. There was no more chance of it evolving into anything more.

I felt at that moment like I was at the bottom of all the places I had ever been too. I watched the people around me and vaguely heard the words that seem to come from their mouths as they walked around and interacted with one another. The man whom my sister had been married to and had only recently divorced, sat on the sofa across the room from me. I sat and wondered if he knew just how much he had tore her heart and how much he had made her cry. Yet I also knew that she loved him with all her heart and would want him to be here with us. I watched the ones who came in with warm wishes and hugs. I watched the ones who came just to see what was going on and maybe get a piece of the infamous funeral cake that they knew was on the dining table. I wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and just disappear and no longer have to deal with the entire circus that seemed to be taking place in front of me.

It was at this moment of desperation that I heard my other sister as she strolled into the front door speaking the words that would change my life from that point forward. “Guess who just drove up, Vincent sheik. (To be continued….)

Life Six Years Ago - Part One

Six years ago I lost someone who was very special to me. As in most cases you don’t really realize just how important someone or thing is until they are gone and you realize the gap that is left in your life from that point forward. It was a sudden occurrence. Something that was completely unsuspected and no warnings were given at all. I would like to say it was a terrible accident and in some strange way a bit of myself could possibly blame the tragedy of such an act on something or someone else yet it was not.

It was like any other August day, hot and eventful. I had spoken to my sister the night before as we had done on most Sunday evenings before the start of the next week. We would discuss our prior week and also the week to come and what wonderful things we had in store. At this time in our lives the events that came about were not necessarily the most wonderful; which made the conversations even that much more meaningful. She had recently gone through a rough divorce with a man that I know she still was very much in love with. As with any breakup of a relationship it was a long story. She had not taken the whole ordeal well and struggled with many of the aspects of the results of such a mess.

She had not been feeling good as of late yet she wrote much of her strain and stress off to the remnants of the ordeal she was going through. Yet the last week she was even more tired and lacked the energy to even do the simplest things. Yes, depression can do such things to you we both knew yet it seemed that possible there was something else that may be occurring and it would not hurt for her to have herself checked out just for safety purposes. She had made an appointment with the doctor the following Monday and was giving me the details. We chatted further about other trivial matters then promised to speak the next evening.

Of course all the usual things were spoken between us. The promises were made to call the next day; as well as the I love yous. The next day went as usual. I went to work and had a typical Monday morning, slow to start and blah as most Mondays were. I remember taking work home that evening because the day was so busy. I was working on my “homework” when I received the phone call. It was from my mother. Now a phone call from my mother was unusual in itself as she is not one to call out of the blue. I picked up the phone and the voice I heard on the other end was shaky to say the least. She kept saying my name yet nothing else.

Eventually another person came on the phone and simply said the words, Rosie is gone she is not with us no more. I did not know what to say and the coldness of the person who gave me the news that my oldest sister had just passed struck me like a 2 x 4 being swung up against my head. I asked for details yet the cold response continued. My mother was in no shape to discuss any of the current developments so I was simply left with she is gone. As I hung up the phone I sat in silence, dumbfounded and alone.

I had attempted to call my sister earlier on my way home from work to talk about the results of her dr. visit as I drove home yet received no answer. I assumed that I could chat with her later in the evening and get all the details then. That possibility was no longer there anymore.

I would later find out that she had gone to the doctor for her appointment yet never made it in to see him. On her check in with the receptionist, she had gone to the bathroom before she went in to see him. She was found some time later passed in a restroom stall. She had been there for some time and at the immediate time of her discovery it was unsure of what her cause of death was. It would be months before we found out that she was riddled with cancer inside and all of it had finally caught up with her. I think also that because of many of the things that had transpired in her life (the divorce especially and the loss of the man she truly loved) had left her with a feeling of no longer wishing to fight.

Did she know about any of this? No one really knows if she did. If she did she never let on to any of those around her; not to her friends, family, ex husband, or even her four grown boys. Yet Rosie was a fighter and someone who would not have troubled others with her tragedy especially if it were something that she felt would have brought them down or worried them; even more still if it were something that there was nothing that could have been done about it.

A Thought To Ponder - Letting Go

Hanging onto resentment

is letting someone you despise

live rent free in your head

Ann Landers