WRITE! Part 2

The Departure…

I stepped out of the car and onto the busy airport sidewalk. Grabbing my bags from the trunk, I kissed my husband goodbye and gave the fastest goodbye hugs and kisses to my children. Wheeling my suitcase through the crowded sidewalk, the tears started to prick at my eyes. I turned around once more and waved goodbye to my family as they drove off. Then, I was alone. Tears slid down my cheeks as I made my way through the airport doors. I was afraid and overcome with emotion. Here I was navigating the busy airport on my own and with the crushing weight of knowing what awaited me on the other side of the country. I couldn’t hold back the emotion any longer. I didn’t need to be brave for my kiddos, or appear strong in front of them. It was just me. Me and a crowd! After letting those initial tears spill over, I was able to gather myself once again and march onward towards security and my sick sister, Lynette, on the East Coast.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I made it through security and settled in at my gate. I did it! The rest would be easy. I just had to get on the plane and let it take me to my sister. But I hadn’t anticipated the small talk that comes along with flying. ‘Oh, it’s so nice to meet you. Where are you headed? Oh really, what are you going to do there?’ With a blank look, I quickly replied with a very general answer. ‘My sister and her family live there. I’m heading out to see them.’ Phew! That was enough. The kind seatmate didn’t ask any further questions. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I had to answer anything more in depth. Would I have cried right there in front of all those passengers? Would I have lied? Would I have become stoic or nonchalant, emotionless as I answered the question in truth? I’m just so glad I didn’t have to find out. Putting my noise-canceling headphones on, I blocked out the rest of the world for the duration of the flight. 

The Arrival…

After a slight delay during my layover, I made it to my destination. Calling my friend to let her know we landed, she drove the 40 minutes out to the airport to pick me up. I’d also be staying at this friend’s house while visiting my sister and her family. I was so thankful for how these accommodations had worked out. Not only did I get to see my good friend, Vanessa, but I also got to see my wonderful sister, Lynette. The three of us had become great friends when we lived near one another back in Illinois. Together, along with my sister-in-law, Joy, we made a home-school co-op together during the height of Covid. It was an amazing set of women and kids. We needed community during that time and it worked out so well that the four of us and our kids could meet regularly to make that community happen. Even though our families now live far from each other, we still get along and enjoy one another when we get the chance to be together.

Vanessa and I spent a few hours talking and catching up before we turned in for the night. The following morning, I woke up and slowly got ready for the day. I just didn’t want to face what was to come. I kept delaying the inevitable. I talked with my friend while I ate a slow breakfast, hoping I could draw some inner strength as I inched towards the time to leave. Finally I was ready. Vanessa hugged me and encouraged me that I could do this as I got ready to head over to my sister’s house. I’d have a little time with Lynette and the family before my Mom and brother, Jesse arrived from their trip out here. 

My Destination…

As I stepped into my sister’s house, I was welcomed by cheers of “Aunt Brittany!” There were so many hugs! My sister has ten kids and at that time most of them were still living at home. Oh those hugs were scrumptious! I accepted all the hellos and welcomes and gave a bit of talk time to the family. Usually, at this point visiting my sister, I’d make my way to the kitchen where I would inevitably find her baking bread, prepping for the next meal or helping the youngest ones with dishes from the meal that just passed. Lynette was the picture of domesticity. She loved being in the kitchen. It was her happy place. She adored being able to feed her family good and healthy foods. She welcomed the times when she could teach them how to bake or do something ‘just so’ in cooking.

I know this first hand. I have vivid memories of being at my 7th grade home with her in the kitchen. We were adding all the dry ingredients to a stainless steel bowl. She reminded me to take the flat edge of the butter knife and run it over the measuring cup of flour to ensure that I had the perfect amount of flour that the recipe called for. Then we got out the handheld electric mixture and together we mixed the ingredients until they were combined and ready for the next step. As we baked together, we sang to whatever music she currently loved and we did a little dancing to keep up the energy. She was patient with me. I don’t understand how she could be so patient, but I think it must have been not just our relationship but also her love of the process of cooking, not only the outcome. Side by side, we produced some very tasty baked goods in my younger years. 

Now what awaited me was a kitchen with no Lynette. Her family carried on the cooking and cleaning, but it still felt empty without her welcoming smile and flour-covered hands. She wasn’t dressed in an apron, looking out her kitchen window and delighting in her children running around the yard. She wasn’t silly-dancing to her favorite music and bringing an upbeat feeling to the space. She was asleep in her bedroom; medicated and still experiencing symptoms of this brain tumor – no mobility on her left side and seizing from time to time. I had to wait to see her until she was awake. That’s just how things were. Waiting in the unknown space between what I knew and didn’t know while still being in a familiar place with familiar people was tough. I tried to stay present, but I just wanted to see my sister. Now that I had arrived, I was ready, but not ready… Perhaps I should say that I was as ready as I could be. 

“Auntie Brittany, she’s awake. You can go in and see her now,” my oldest niece told me. Now was the time. It was here. I didn’t know what to expect, but I did know who was on the other side of the door. I entered her bedroom and there she was, propped up on pillows in her bed. She looked over and we made eye contact as I approached her bed. I felt shy and unsure. But she looked at me with such love and joy that I knew all was okay for the moment. I opened my arms and wrapped them around my sister. We cried. It was so good to see each other again. Nothing needed to be spoken as we just hugged each other. Here I was across the country from my home, hugging my sister and offering whatever morsel of support I could for her and her present situation.

Settling In…

“You came!” she said through tears and with a tired voice from all she had been through. Yes, I came. I was there, I was with my sister. I looked on the woman who was always larger than life to me. My big sister who seemed to have the answers to just about any question. My big sister who took me under her wing so many times. We were connected. We were connected through childhood memories, shared music, our faith in Jesus, and our desire to be the best Mom’s out there! We loved one another deeply and all that past stuff linked us in this moment. I could be strong because here was my sister who needed me. She needed me to be there and show her that I cared too. I could help be the one to take care of her when she had done that for me so many times. I could sit with her and not say a word or I could ramble on and fill the silence. Whatever she needed, I wanted to give that to her. I wanted to take care of her because she cared for me. I wanted to be there for her because our bond was out of this world. She was my big sister and it was my turn.

As a musician, I have always been interested in the power of music to heal the brain and body. So as soon as I heard that my sister was sick with a brain tumor, I started to compile a playlist of music from our childhood. There’s something about music from our past that hits us in a different way than music from our present. It’s like those songs get embedded for decades and can bring us back in no time. I laid down next to my sister in her king-size bed and I told her about the playlist. I asked if I could play some songs for her. She graciously said that I could. As the first song played, tears formed. She looked at me and tears formed in my eyes as well. We brokenly sang parts of the song and held on tight to each other. It was a warm moment of connection with my sister. It was a connection that spanned 4 decades and here we were, together, reliving a moment in time. It was beautiful. I can’t actually remember what song it was that I played, but it was powerful and so, so good. 

I’m so thankful for music and the way it can connect hearts. The Lord gave us such a precious gift in music. Hans Christian Anderson is known for saying, “Where words fail, Music speaks.” I have experienced that close up time and time again. Even as I’m writing this, I’ve chosen to listen to the instrumental soundtrack for the 1985 PBS/Wonderworks Film, “Anne of Green Gables.” The music reminds me of the many times that Lynette and I watched this sweet story together. We’d pretend to be an orphan and get taken home to a loving family. As we grew up, the story had other meanings for us, deep friendship being one of them. We could be Anne and Diana because of how close we were. We knew our depth of relationship would always be strong and it is.

The Lord has been so good to put us together. He knit our family and our sisterhood into an intricate weave, one that was added to year over year. Although my sister is no longer with me physically, I still carry that piece of her with me. I know that is cliche, but it’s cliche for a reason! She’s in my heart and my mind. She’s in the recipes I make and the music I hear. We are Anne and Diana, Elsa and Anna. We are sisters through and through. She’s the only one that carries this unique bond with me and death doesn’t make that go away. I know that I’ll be reunited with her one day. She’s with Jesus now, praising him. I can see her wearing white, hands uplifted, face turned towards the light of Jesus. She’s praising him with all of Heaven. She’s in the glory of our Lord just like the picture that the Lord gave me on that Worship Night. She is where she is meant to be for all eternity. I’m so thankful for her joy in the Lord.

(To be continued in a future blog post)…

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