i find it nearly impossible to write these next words:
My sister has said good-bye to a third child. Cheryl Kellene Paine Vella.
Those who have been visiting over the years will remember
my post 16 months ago about my nephew Jon.
His sister--generous, loving, opinionated, happy, friendly, gregarious, fiercely competitive player of family card games, always-thinking-of-others--has joined him in that mysterious-to-us "next place." Their older brother passed away 1985 (or there bouts), shortly before Kelly was married.

Theirs is one strong, never-loose-faith family.
i cling to their apron strings, hoping with all my might that it's all true.

Here are Kelly and Jon, about 36 years ago. This photo is just so Kelly. As someone said at her funeral services, if there was a baby nearby, it was soon in her arms.



We have always been a close family, but Kelly and i had become even closer this past year. And for the past couple of weeks...after she went into the hospital...i've been holding my breath. Unable to concentrate on much beyond the absolute "must do" deadlines, the Facebook game she lured me into, and watching the chimney swifts in the sky above the garden.

Their mother, my sister, has the strongest spirit, deepest abiding faith of anyone i know. She would say something like, "this overwhelming sadness is only our near-sightedness. I know I will see and be with them again."

For me and my adopted sister (Kelly's other "favorite aunt") on this side of the continent, the garden was our refuge on the day we received the awe-full news. It was a glorious, cool, spring morning. A brilliant sky. A soft breeze. And dozens of song birds eating, bathing, flying through.

And yet...and yet...this world grows just that much lonelier.

I hide myself within my flower,   
  That wearing on your breast,   
You, unsuspecting, wear me too—   
And angels know the rest.
                                    Emily Dickinson


i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it...
                                    ee cummings

Lucy, when you get around to this...i'm so sorry that you know too well how this all feels.

Comments

[Wendee]

I'm so very sorry to hear this, Vicki. I'm keeping you and your family in my thoughts...

[Dawn]

It is all true, no need to cling! :)

[Dawn]

And P.S. I love that pic...what a cute, chunky baby Jonathan was! :)

[vicki]

Love you, Dawn!

[Lucy]

Oh Zephyr, Vicki, I'm so sorry (- and sorry not to have got here sooner). Thanks so much for thinking of me at such a painful time. How unbelievably hard for you and your family. What fine youngsters they were.

It's a great blessing to have such faith as your sister does at these times, though it can't be had just by wishing for it. Hoping is good, I think. I know I am not at the epicentre even of the grief at losing my sister - though each grief is peculiar and they can't always be compared and graded - yet I have found that sadness and joy are not necessarily mutually exclusive, and the former can even give an edge to the latter.

You are in my thoughts; may you continue to find peace and solace in the garden, and in the hearts of those you love.