My Favorite Sister - My Only Sister

Today commemorates the first anniversary of my sister Angela’s passing. To say that I have experienced a profound sense of loss would be an understatement. Despite not residing in the same household for over two decades we had stayed close. Sure we had occasional disagreements, but we had mutually agreed to reconcile a few years before her passing. Regrettably, her health deteriorated significantly in the final year of her life. I was fortunate to see her in the hospital twice before her passing and I was holding her hand during her final moments. Writing this evokes a significant emotional response, but after a year, I am filled with gratitude that I was able to be there with her. Although she was receiving life support, I am convinced that she sensed the presence of her family around her.

Naturally I was there for her. As I child when I needed her, she was there countless times. I grew up with serious childhood asthma, I faced significant breathing challenges which resulted in my being of small stature and quite frail. Consequently, I developed into a cautious and reserved person. In contrast, Angela possessed strength, an outgoing spirit, and robustness. At one point, she declared war on any boys at my school who took advantage of my weakened state and tried to use me as a punching bag. As a means of saving face and avoiding embarrassment in front of their peers, they attempted to stand their ground against the formidable force, the main battle tank that was my sister. Angela showed them no mercy, and even I was terrified by the beating she would inflict upon my tormentors. No one else was permitted to beat her brother. Doing so was reserved solely for her. It was a privilege that she held dear and was very willing to fight for.

She always hated and feared doctors. Whenever I had to see one as a child she would not go into the examination room with me and my mother, instead she would hang out at the far end of a long hallway. A seven year old girl yelling at the doctors and nurses “Don’t you hurt my brother! If you hurt my brother, I’m going to kill you!” Once my mother and I returned to the waiting room with a lollypop for her, she attempted to take my candy away after consuming hers, but my mother promptly intervened.

Despite growing up together under the guidance of a strict single mother, we developed distinct personalities. Angela was highly attuned to the opinions of her peers, while I was accustomed to the isolation and rejection that came with not fitting in. She experienced a tumultuous rebellious phase during her teenage years and her twenties, which was distressing to observe from a distance. However, she ultimately overcame these challenges and emerged stronger.

Recently, I rediscovered some old photographs of my sister and me. These cherished memories serve as a poignant reminder of our past, transporting me back to a time when Angela possessed an unwavering courage. Despite my occasional apprehension towards her, I knew that when danger approached, her resolve would surge to confront it head-on.

I miss you Angela, I still need my guardian angel at my side. 

I think we all do.

Floating Between Two Worlds

 I only know it’s morning and not evening because my apple watch says it is. Outside the sky remains as dark and impenetrable as India ink splattered on bright white handmade paper. I gather my things and proceed outside, walking quietly along a familiar darkened path past the houses of still sleeping neighbors. Occasionally there is a lighted window. Insomniac or someone getting ready for work? The ground is wet, proof of an unexpected storm having passed stealthily over our little piece of paradise during the night. Anyone peeking at me through their shades must be wondering “What the hell is that guy doing walking around in the dark wearing a bathrobe?” and they would be right to wonder, but nothing nefarious is afoot. As I have each day since my retirement two days ago, I’m heading to our community pool/spa area. As I turn a corner in the path, beckoning me forward is the illuminated superheated column of steam rising from the Jacuzzi into the cold morning air.

Arriving at the gated and fenced in pool/spa area, I use the little FOB on my keyring to open the locked gate and enter, closing it softly behind me. Only the quiet metallic click of the lock reengaging announces my arrival. As I set my things down on a handy poolside chair and remove the bathrobe, I’m quickly reminded that it’s in the mid 40’s this early California morning and hurriedly walk over to the water jet timer, rotating it to the maximum duration and then walk down the steps of the Jacuzzi, submerging myself neck deep into the very hot water. The water jets roar to life and I float around on my back, letting my eyes adjust to the light. Stars begin to imprint themselves on my retinas and I notice the occasional solitary jet aircraft bisecting the sky far above. 

My mind begins to wander back across the 45 year span of my working life, now all behind me. I feel a little like an Apollo astronaut heading for the moon and looking out the window at the earth getting smaller every minute. Watching much of what I have known, much of what is familiar recede and move away from me while at the same time my destination, the unknown future, looms ahead growing ever larger. I have prepared well for this journey but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit unsettled. 

The steam from the heated water threatens to obscure my vision and the stars vanish for a minute, but I carry on floating between two worlds, one familiar and one largely unknown. 

The mercury sodium lights that surround the nearby cold water pool now appear to have luminescent halos around them which are momentarily backlit by the headlights of a passing car that suddenly sweeps across the pool area and fades from view. Someone returning home after an all-nighter or a worker coming home having completed a graveyard shift, ready to draw the blackout shades and sleep all day? Unknown. A few more window lights in the neighboring houses begin to flare to life. The early risers are up and moving now. Probably getting ready for work. I silently wish them all a good day and think “I’ll guard the Jacuzzi while you’re gone.”

An inappropriate smile appears unbidden on my face. The timer ends and the water jets stop, all is silent again except for the sudden glug, glug, glug of the final water bubbles breaching the surface like those exhaled from the tortured lungs of a drowning person having giving up the fight and sinking into the murky depths.

Instead of sinking, I emerge from the water and dry off, pulling the bathrobe back on and walk along that familiar path home under that cold obsidian star filled sky, a new day is starting and I have an extensive list of things accomplish. Retirement? I recommend it.

My name is Greg Jones and I approve this message.

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Rest

Italian Cemetery

Fargo, North Dakota

Punk in a City Storm

 

The Lesson

 

Thanksgiving

 

 

Love

Pieta