Sisters

I will remember one May 30 and one May 31 forever.

On May 30, 1970, a Saturday night the sheriff came to our door with his hat in his hand and told my parents that my sister Jo had been killed on a shooting range.  It was ruled an accident though we all had our doubts.  Her husband will rot in hell for what he did.  But that is another story.  Jo was 22 at the time and had a 2 year old son, Steve.  She is the sister I most looked like and she could not carry a tune in a bucket and she wanted to be a nurse.  She did not get to live any dreams or see her son grow up.  She died to young.

On May 31, 1997, another Saturday night, my sister Cathy lost her battle with breast cancer.  She was 50.  She was a smart cookie.  Her husband had died about 10 years earlier, also of cancer and she left 3 kids behind, ranging from 22 to 31. She deserved another man to love and take care of her and she deserved to live longer.  Even though she saw some dreams come true and saw her kids grow up, she too died too young.

I miss my sisters a lot, even after all these years.  I have joked over the years that I'm pretty ticked off at them because they left me behind to have to make the mean decisions when mom and daddy got old but the truth is it was always going to be me, even if they were both still here.  And it's ok, I survived.  And I'll see them again someday.