Donna Carter Cook

This afternoon I finally mourned the loss of my only older sister, Donna. She died of Primary Liver Cancer at age 59.

I assumed she had passed on; a cousin had told me that Donna had been placed in Hospice, and that her daughter was arriving from out of state.

After that, I heard nothing, though I left phone messages with the cousin, and two other half-siblings, they did not return my calls.

Today, being for me, a non-work day; I spent some time surfing the net. I checked the Social Security Death Records, and her name was there. She died in 2003, it didn't give the month or date. Guess I need to send for a copy of her death certificate. I have of copy of her birth certificate...

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon. So I went out on my scooter; found a secluded place in the complex, and remembered my sister.

Pictures of her at various stages of her life flashed through my mind in kaleidoscope fashion: her beautiful brown eyes, the skinny little girl, her haughtiness at having a boy friend who drove an MG when we were teens, how proud she was of her first daughter, how fascinated she was with the creatures at the Zoo, her ability with numbers. I remembered how we fought as children, always at odds with each other. I remembered how she secretly sucked her thumb well into adulthood, how she couldn't get ready to go anywhere without hairspray, and how she liked a cup of hot cocoa before bed.

I hadn't seen Donna for ten years prior to her death. She had married again, and was happy. (When she was involved with a man, there was nothing else in her world. I'd always wondered the why of that, and we'd even talked about it, without either of us ever understanding the phenomena.) But because we didn't see each other didn't mean we weren't in touch every few years.

Because of my own illness, and the miles between us; I was unable to see Donna before she passed on. This was something that really bothered me as I sat alone on my scooter in the sunshine of the afternoon and contemplated how my life had changed with her passing. She was the first of the 8 half-siblings, the first of my generation of family, to leave this world.

And I really have nothing physical of her to 'keep'. I wouldn't even begin to know how to contact her husband. Thankfully, I DO have albums full of pictures; from all stages of our lives. Though I will never need a picture to remember Donna.

I sat there, in the sun, for a long time. Alone, I watched the breeze play in the trees, watched two butterflies chase each other over the lush grass, and cried and cried.

I can only hope that she knows how much I love her, valued her as a sister. I think she does.