I won't be posting for awhile, I am here in Plymouth, not just for a visit but because my dearest sister has become very ill, an illness she won't recover from. Being the youngest in a family of 9 was, the majority of the time, a great spot for me...I don't think I need to elaborate on all the benefits being the youngest entails. The downside is now becoming very clear as the years go by. There are 20 years between my oldest sibling and myself, almost like two separate families, five in the first 8 years of my parents marriage, then the other four ten years later over a span of 6 years. Four girls, five boys, presently there are six of us, my sister & myself and four brothers. A big family is a wonderful, crazy blessing, not always easy, but it is the joy that has sustained me through the years. All my life from the time I can remember when I would tell someone my last name, they would ask; Oh, are you related to ...and say any one of my siblings names...and go on and on about how wonderful and kind and funny they were, no one more than Teresa, our storyteller. Saying goodbye, though, is never easy but seeing them suffer in their transition is the real heart breaker... all you can do is keep asking "Why?" It never seems fair, but to know my Sister Teresa, it's really a monumental question. Always there... always a helping hand, a kind and listening ear, a "What do you need?" kinda girl, even though she had seven children of her own. Eighteen years older than me, she could act like a Mom when she needed to, but mostly she just was my big sister Teresa, my dear sister Teresa, my dearest sister Teresa...On the wings of an angel you will go my dear one and you will have great fun telling all your new stories about us all when you arrive...I had a dream last week of my Mom & Dad and my siblings gone before, together with all my Aunts and Uncles and cousins setting a table for a party, all whispering, "Teresa's coming, Teresa's coming!" Such joy in the familiar voices I haven't heard for a long, long time.
