Soul Sister

I remember you. I remember my baby sister, ten years younger, my little shadow, my Jennie. You would do anything to spend time over at my house. Your desire to part of my family was so strong. The favorite Auntie, often tortured with sticky baby hugs, always attacking back with smooches. You were the hilarious, crazy almost sister to my children, the one that alternately doted on and tortured my children most of their childhood. You were almost a college graduate when you met your love, we had you to ourselves a long time until Richard. After a brief testing period  to make sure your boy was good enough, through various embarrassing questions and tests, our kids deemed Uncle Richard “Ricardo” their almost brother.

Since we couldn’t bear to be apart from you, Jennie, we came to visit often. You and I never cared if the accommodations were tight or that you were stuck in a small studio apartment supporting your sweet husband through college, you made sure we stayed right there with you. Yup, you really can squeeze six fat butts into the hallway/kitchen/living room when you need to be close to your favorite person. You really were my favorite person, my very best girlfriend, a truly wonderful sister. You taught me so much, you were years ahead of me when it came to maturity, kindness and selflessness. You brought two of the most wonderful babies into the world and I was closer to them then their real grandma’s were. They were my first almost grandchildren. 

An earlier cherished memory I have is the year when I received a Mother’s Day card from you and Richard. That was the day I knew you felt the same way that I did, that I was more a mother figure to you both than either of your much older mother’s ever had been. We had a mutual adoration society going for a really long time, until we didn’t, because you left us all, me, Richard and the kids.

The call came on a beautiful summer day while I was driving back from girl’s camp. I remember vividly when Richard said, “we were in an accident, it’s really bad” and he was talking about you, my baby sister. The fear in his voice and the need for me, his almost mother-in-law was palpable, come and help us, help her. I scrambled to the airport and raced to your side. Your little family had been traveling back from our recent family reunion, extending your trip and visiting friends in Utah. The car accident happened in a small rural town.  You were all injured and taken to the nearest hospital, but you were in grave condition, you were life-flighted to another better equipped hospital in Provo. I was the first to be at your side, I slept beside you, I made sure your big sister was there because I knew you never liked to sleep alone. I was your first bedmate when you were just a baby and I had to be there for you.

I knew it was you, amid the breathing tube and mass of wires, beyond the bloated shape, there were those sweet freckles and long eyelashes. I still could spy “bucky” your hated crooked somewhat buck front tooth, the one that Richard called his favorite. Just one of the many funny, special things about you. Your soft brown hair was matted and bloody until a sweet nurse offered to braid it to make you look pretty. I could see you beyond the swollen body, I recognized the friendship bracelets that you bought at our family reunion craft auction, the ones your nieces handmade with love. They felt pretty special when you bought them and wore them the whole weekend, you were really good at making us feel loved. Looking at your cute toes, I remember giving you that pedicure just days ago at our reunion, they were so pretty. It was fitting, tradition really. I painted your toes for you when you were heading to the hospital about to deliver your two babies, this time I just didn’t realize what was coming. Eleven days in a coma, that’s how long you let me say goodbye. After back surgery, tests, and ample time to see if you would come back to us, we knew you needed to go back home to your Heavenly Father. Richard made the hardest decision of his life when he stopped keeping you alive with machines. That day, that one tremendously agonizing day, when my hope that you would somehow be ok was gone. That was the longest day of my life, I was in denial. I told myself that the signs were there, though vague. But Richard knew, he knew the moment of the accident, he knew you were gone that very day. But he and I both needed every one of those days to have that long goodbye.

But life must go on, sweet Hartley was only 18 months old, she knew I was the closest thing to momma and she called me that from that first day of the accident. The Lord, and his mother, had prepared our sober young Teagan so well. He was able to grasp the concept, understand that you were in heaven, and know that even though it was sad, it was ok. Days and days, weeks and weeks, turning to months at those babies side, at Richards’s side, recounting stories and memories constantly, recounting the accident. And then there was the day that Richard stopped looking like the walking dead. That took a little longer for your boy, your love. That day didn’t come for another year when he met his wonderful new wife Shay, the second momma to Hartley and Teagan. I knew the moment Richard was ready to date. The Lord had someone special lined up. I felt no sorrow, only joy and excitement, only happiness for them all. Those feelings of deep sorrow were gone after the first few months for me. I felt normal sadness of course, but the atonement is what healed that gut wrenching pain. The sweet wonderful peace of my Savior, He knew how much I cherished and loved you, He gave me comfort. Then there was Shay, the mother and wife you probably handpicked for them all, you were there in the sealing room that day. Shay talks to you, Jennie-mom, and asks for your help in raising your children. Shay has pictures of you in her sweet spirit filled home, she knows your kids still need to see you.

Island life, that’s what you gave your family. After years of supporting your husband through graduate school and scrimping and sacrifice, he did it. Richard took a little longer to finish that final year after you died, but he finished. Doctor Cornwall PhD, now a professor at BYUH, teaching college kids about chemistry. Being a Dad with a sweetheart and finally really enjoying the simple things again. I really miss you Jen, but you did good. You did everything you needed to do here on this Earth. You learned every homemaking skill, you sewed, you gardened, you canned and you quilted. You graduated college as a dental hygienist, married the love of your life and mothered 2 wonderful children. You traveled to Germany and had simple vacations and enjoyed the joys of camping with your children. You made time for me and I made time for you, always, always. You never hurt or offended anyone that I know of. You were pretty close to perfect in my eyes, in your family’s eyes, and in your friends eyes. The Lord knew you were ready, he knew you had prepared yourself and your sweet babies. He knew you had packed every ounce of love and adoration on them along with teaching them the gospel by example, word and deed. You didn’t leave us though, you are in Teagan’s toes and Hartley’s eyes. When I look at my Natalie I see freckles and shapes that remind me of you. We are all gonna be ok now, your sweet little family is thriving and happy. And I am too, I love you soul sister.