The siblings

Me, Norma Jean, PJ, Buz, Markee, Fia

After last week when I traveled back in time forty years ago, it seems almost like yesterday that I look back only ten years ago to this picture. It is the last one that was taken of me with all my siblings. We are arranged, as usual, in birth order, with me on the left as the oldest, and Fia at the right, the youngest. Almost exactly twenty years separate us, with me born in fall 1942, and Fia in the fall of 1962.

We are in the home of my brother Buz and his wife Phyllis and had gathered to mark the passing of Norma Jean's husband Pete, who died in February 2011. I just realized that it has been a decade since then. PJ died in February 2014, three years after this picture was taken. For years, we had a private blog, started by Buz, which is called "The Sixlings." It still exists on Wordpress, but nobody seems to visit it, other than Buz who keeps our family anniversaries and birthdays up to date.  (I just went over to see if I can still log in but have forgotten the password. Story of my life.)

When I went to bed last night, I thought about PJ and her life, and lo and behold, she came to visit me in my dreams. As usual, she was creating something crafty, even in my dream. Only her family called her "PJ," her initials (Patricia June) and was "Pat" to everybody else. She was always the least healthy of us, suffering from both diabetes and heart disease. I remember being surprised during this visit that she could only walk very slowly and hardly at all when faced with a hill to navigate. She looked quite healthy to me, but she was not. 

She not only liked to create needlepoint samplers, jewelry, and the like, but she also liked to give them away. PJ also loved to care for others who were less fortunate, and for many years she helped a young man who had been paralyzed to be able to communicate. I remember how hard she labored to find a way for him to use a computer system, and she was eventually successful. She was also an inveterate gamer and always showed up at family gatherings with plenty of them to share. It was because of her that I was pulled in to play when I didn't want to, and she was right: I enjoyed them very much once I got over my reticence. 

She doted on her four grandchildren and was very involved in their upbringing. When I visited family and she was around, she always had many stories about them and their progress. Now they are teenagers (hard to fathom) and I know I would hear so much more about them were she still alive. Although I rarely log on to Facebook any more, other than to look at pictures of my buddies' hiking exploits, and now skiing and snowshoe trips, I just went to her remembrance page to think about her once again.

PJ was seven years younger than me, and because of her place in the family hierarchy, she didn't have a sibling close to her as I had with Norma Jean. Buz was born many years later, and he grew up close to his two younger sisters. I do know that he was much more involved with PJ than I was, since they lived in nearby cities, and PJ was quite close to Fia as well, as I remember, for the same reason. 

The only family member than I see on a regular basis is Norma Jean. She and I will have a FaceTime call this coming Wednesday, which turns out would have been her late husband's 77th birthday. That is entirely by coincidence, as we have the calls pre-scheduled for every fourth Wednesday, and I noticed the date and was reminded of it. It's hard to realize that he has been gone for a decade now. When you get to a certain age, not only do the weeks and months fly by, but also the years and even decades.

During this year of "Uncovering," I suspect there will be many memories of times and people who are still present in my recollections that will emerge. PJ's visit in my dreams last night was quite pleasant, as she instructed me on how to generate a needlepoint creation (something I would never do in real life). In my dream, I could hear her voice as clearly as if she were still alive, and I could also hear her easy laughter as I struggled to pull the needle through the cloth. 

"Here, let me show you." She took the cloth from my hands, and I watched her pretty small fingers as she magically made it look easy indeed. PJ was very petite, the smallest of the siblings, although she struggled to keep her weight under control. It's always harder when you're small, I think, when you've got one mouth just like everybody else, and it seems wrong that you cannot eat much without weight gain. I know she struggled with it and was moderately successful for much of her life. She lived to be 63, had two children, both boys. She was very successful in her chosen profession and became quite a whiz at creating Microsoft excel spreadsheets, which she taught to others. 

I cannot say that I miss her often, because she was not part of my everyday life. But we will never be able to gather all of us together again, because she is gone forever. Her memory will live on among her siblings, and when we gather together again, we will think of her and miss her presence. With the pandemic still raging, it's difficult to think when that might be. It has been two years since I visited Florida, and who knows when I will feel safe traveling on a plane again? Not any time soon.

Life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating. —O. Henry

And with this recollection of my sister PJ, I will now continue with the rest of my day. It's time to think of what lies ahead, and to visit the coffee shop and my friend John, before deciding what I will do with the rest of it. The weather is mild and pleasant, so I might go for a nice walk. Or maybe back to my latest book in my favorite chair. Or both. My dear partner still sleeps next to me, and I can feel myself ready to make some new memories. I have so much to be grateful for, and you, my dear reader, figure quite prominently in there, too. I hope you have a wonderful day and week ahead. Be well until we meet again.