My big sister Mary passed away today, much more peacefully than did our mother. She was number 3 of the 4 sons and 3 daughters born of our parents, and she was the first of the sibling to die.
L-R: Martha, Mary, Dorothy
Three sisters, taken a few weeks before Mary's death
When my mom had to go to work to help support our family, Mary was like a second mother to us younger brothers and sisters . She cooked, cleaned, drove us around, worried about us, was my Brownie scout leader and the best piggy-back ride-giver, ever. She carried me around until my feet just about dragged the ground, she spoiled me so. She loved our sister Martha so much she donated one of her kidneys to her (as did my brothers Burt and John before her), which has lasted now for well over ten years. For all of that goodness we enjoyed, there were some equally rough years relationship-wise, but in the end we put them aside and just loved one another.
One of my friends, Jane, said my post about our family's loss on Facebook, "No longer 7, we are 6," brought to mind " '
We Are Seven,' by William Wordsworth, one of innumerable recitations my grandmother memorized as a child. She could still recite it word for word at age 100." Jane was so right.
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