My Sister

Saturday, August 08, 2015

Today I am grateful for my sister, Judy Adrianson. She will be surprised when she reads this because I just called her asking if I could use the picture she messaged me of my mom, Uncle Bill and Aunt Caroline for my blog today. So why their picture when I’m grateful for my sister?

Because Judy makes it happen. . .for my mom. She is the sole person responsible for most of my mom’s social life, some of her entertainment (except BINGO) and all of her finances and shopping needs. How can I not be grateful to her?

The decision over five years ago to move my mom from Apache Junction, Arizona to Madison, Wisconsin was fraught with emotions. My mom didn’t want to leave the place where she had carved out a new life after my dad died; I was still working and would be unable to tend to her as well as my sister who didn’t work; and my sister had no idea what she was really taking on. I’m not sure that my mom has ever realized how difficult it was for all of us because she was consumed with her own anxiety. But it was necessary. Many of you reading this could share your own stories on the same vein.

At 88, my mom has had some health issues which leave her “wilting”. . .a term my sister and I have come to despise. . .not because we are unfeeling brats, though there might be some of that, especially if you ask mom. . .but because “wilting” to us means that mom is DONE being social and wants to go home where she can have as many cigarettes as she wants without us bitching about her smoking. “Get off my back!” along with “Don’t START with me!” are other terms we’ve come to loathe.

When she’s in a bad mood, or not feeling well, or just plain has a bug-up-her-butt, my mom can be an irascible nightmare. Those of you who who know her will understand what I mean. Oh my. The woman makes Joan Rivers sound like Mother Theresa. She’ll rant about the medical profession, music she can’t understand and food that is “nasty” because it actually has flavor, until you can’t wait to take her home (or in my case hang up the phone) and will even light her cigarette to shut her up. It ain’t pretty, but it’s the truth.

I’ve shared before that sometimes when we’re talking on the phone she’ll have to go because re-runs of “Mr. Ed” are on. “Judge Judy” and “Susie Ormand” are also favorites. So is classical music, especially piano, which she taught for twenty years. My sister will bring her over so that my brother-in-law can play piano for her. She never tires of it, often sitting for two hours, just enjoying the music. She doesn’t have to try and see anything, she just has to listen. I love that. I love my sister for making it happen. I love my brother-in-law for taking the time. I’m just full of love today, aren’t I?

But why wouldn’t I be? I live too far away to take my mom to the Dollar Store, or pick her up for garage sales, or to take her to the Colonel for chicken. So I feel guilty. . .because when mom is feeling as well as anyone 88 can hope to feel, she’s great! She’s still got all of her marbles in the right place so she’s funny and clever and opinionated. Then she’ll rant on about some slight that happened to her 15 years ago, or some dumb thing that happened on Judge Judy and I’ll hear the click of her cigarette lighter and sharp intake of breath and subsequent exhale and in my soul I swear I can smell the stench of that cigarette through the phone lines. My guilt goes away. She is who she is. All of the concern, phone calls, lectures and guilt won’t change a thing. It is what it is.

Even though she can barely see, mom can still enjoy talking with my dad’s brother, Bill and his wife, Caroline, at our favorite Sheboygan hamburger joint, Charcoal Inn. They were a huge part of her original tribe. . .and there aren’t that many left anymore. I’m sure she had a steak sandwich with ketchup, onions and pickles, and a chocolate malt. She’ll be tired today. Good tired.

My sister, Judy is the one who made that spontaneous two-hour drive when she saw that my mom was having a really good day. Then she shared the experience with me so that I could be there, too. . .and that’s why I’m grateful for her.