My Sissa – Marie
When you first meet my sister you would think, wow she seems nice, seems like a positive person and that would all be true.
But then you would become a friend, you would find out that there is so much more to this woman. Her strength, determination and her unconditional love would be a safety net for all your life’s struggles, fears and even doubts. You would find that even when Marie could not find how to navigate her own life at times, she would still be there to throw out the rope to help rescue you.
Many times she suffered is silence from being hurt from this horrible thing called cancer. Marie still forged forward as a pillar of hope for so many others. She opened her home to anyone who was in need of a place of refuge and her favorite saying “just eat a little something” would always seem to bring forth light into a dark day. Things always got better with a kitchen table talk, piece of cake and it really got great with a glass of cold milk and a devil dog!
I have known my sister all of my life. There are too many memories to count the special moments I have as a child, teen, adult to share today, so I will attempt to sum up the overall treasure of being ‘a younger sister” which was always a running joke between her and I, one that always received a laugh and response from her, words that make me laugh today and even cry.
Before my sister was Mrs. Crossman, before she was a mother, an aunt, the volunteer of the year at her children’s school, a talented seamstress, a friend; she was a sister, my Godmother and a daughter. She was 1 of 11 children and the oldest girl of this huge family. Because she was the oldest girl she took on the roll very young to care for her siblings, she learned how to cook and baked and she became a perfectionist’s in time management with organization skills that would serve her well in her adult life. She was a drill sergeant with a great detail on how to clean and gave no mercy to those she was in command of “anyone who ever took part in that troop knows exactly what I am talking about”, but there were rewards from this training and they were delicious, those famous chocolate cream pies or homemade chocolate chip cookies. These were the first two deserts I learned from her to make as a mother myself.
Marie made all of my cloths until I was going into the 9th grade and some even after that, she afforded my children to wear a lot of her designs when they were younger as well. She loved to create framed cross stitch and many of her art works are displayed in homes today, including her own. She loved to make things pretty. She never gave a gift that wasn’t complete. If it was Jewelry it came with the cleaner, if it was a picture it was framed, when wrapped it most certainly had to have a matching bow!
Once her arthritis took control of her hands, she moved on to find hobbies to keep her busy. Those hobbies were her notorious Barbie collection, then the bears, then other dolls, toys, figurines, coins, then came the geo cache days and after some years the world of her munzee obsession. Marie never let any ache or pain stand in her way of obtaining enjoyment in her life.
We always shopped, no matter the length of a visit or reason, we found time to hit a store. In my visits to Florida to help in her care, even then with oxygen in tow and barley able to walk she wanted to go out and shop! Really our outings where more than that, it was our reason to be alone and just talk. As I look over the years of our excursions I reflect on the laughter, the rules we would break, getting lost in a parking lot, blaming every driver on the road for our mistakes and so much more. We never watch the time and we always had a story to tell when we got back, always. I learned my first pinky promise in a car while out with Marie when I was very young and now as a grandmother I continue that tradition.
My sister rarely share her inner heartaches with most, I was blessed to have her trust that arena. If she ever share her heart in privacy consider you to be special. I learned as an adult that sisters were more than family, there is a bond that occurs, a vault for thing’s to be place for interment feelings, hopes and fears, trusted secrets only given up during times of a needed understanding, a love and empathy that is different and measures far beyond other relationships. I suffer the loss of my sister, that place I found rest, the security I need for this restless life ahead.
BUT, I do know she is at peace. I grab ahold of that thought as I run blindly through that open field as if I was flying a kite through a windstorm, fighting to never let go.
So there are a few things some may not know…
Marie did not like to argue because she knew she would already win so in her mind, what was the point!
Her favorite colors were pink and purple, flower was the rose, she loved green on walls and greenery but nowhere else, she loved almost anything sweet but mostly cake, she loved babies and spoiling them, she loved her pets as much as human people, she loved birds, her favorite was the white dove, she loved music, her favorite Christian song was “How Great Thou Art” and she loved soft rock, county and ballots; but Celine Deon was her all-time favorite because of the love songs. She loved God and believed in all that he promises.
Her most important collection if you will was of family history. She has spent decades on research into the genealogy reaching far past the level of the most common person giving a care, but it was important to her. She was proud of our family, how far we have come and where we came from. Lord never ask her a question on something concerning our family because you would open a window of information dated back to the 1800’s.
Marie’s largest love lost in her life was our father, she adored him, she/we needed him and he left us way too soon. I loved to sit and listen to stories she share about my Dad and growing up, one in particular of her 16th Birthday when my father bought her a special dress, back then it was one that he could not afford, but he did. Her story was that Dad recognized all her hard work around the house including good grades in school and being and I quote, a “good girl” the dress was a gift, given in private and was such a highlight of her validation with Dad, he wanted her to feel pretty and she did. She never stopped grieving him even in her last days here on earth.
Her last days
The last requested song she made to hear was “So Small” by Carrie Underwood, the last person she laughed out loud with was Michelle Carter, the last thing she did was work on her muzee clan, her last drink was a coke and cherry Slurpee, the last thing she ate was cherry jello and the last sentence spoken to me was “this has got to be the hardest thing I have every done”, it was moments after she said goodbye to her Grandson of eight years. The last person she spoke of was Betty her longtime friend that was married to Warrens father who had passed away, and her last breathe she took was with me. All of these things will forever be etched in my heart and memories.
The most painful thing she ever asked me was six days before she passed, what are your plans Monnie (my childhood nickname) as I entered the room, I questioned my plans? She said yea how do you plan to live without me? I told her then I didn’t know as I cried from the depth of my soul and as I stand here today I still do not have that answer.
BUT…..
I do know that there are many who have not been afforded in life to have had a sister like mine, that solid foundation built with love and forgiveness, the undying pride she took in all my accomplishments and that stand in parent when I needed one. We always celebrated each other’s life so today and probably for the rest of my life I will mourn that empty spot, that hole that cannot be filled. Yet, I hope one day the pain will ease and with a smile, I will remember, I was blessed to have a big Sister.
Written by: Monica Caison #imissmysister
