My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean

She loved hats and she loved cats. She loved camping and fishing and hiking. She loved flowers and gardening, she loved Halloween and Christmas, she loved cooking and crafts, she loved books and jokes, she loved smoking and drinking. She loved Dave, and she loved Bruce, and she loved Taryn and Emily and Ian, and she loved Warren and Gubby and Ken and Danielle. She loved our mother. And she loved me.

My sister Bonnie lived life on her own terms and as we discovered five sad days ago, she also died on her own terms. A lifetime of hard living caught up with her and her body rebelled - her liver sighed "Enough," her organs went on strike, and she drew her last breath asleep in her own bed, a woman only 50 years old. Months of entreaties from all who loved her to see a doctor and take care of her health fell on deaf ears; she did not want to hear what they might have to say.

Mysteries abound. Did she know she was dying? Was she fearful of being "left behind" if Dave, Bruce and I died before her? Was she more depressed over the loss of my mother than any of us realized? Did she really believe that what was happening to her was just a result of menopause or a particularly nasty flu? Did getting suspended from work cause her to lose her will to live? Did she want to live? Did she want to die? Did she know just how many people would be hurting over her loss?

Her husband, Dave, is devastated. He worshipped this kind-hearted soul, this Coast Guard veteran, this generous and spirited woman who could also be unbelievably difficult to deal with sometimes - they rarely spent even a day apart from one another. Our brother, Bruce, and I can't believe we are no longer a party of three - we wonder how we will ever be able to take a holiday photo of just the two of us. Her best friend, Danielle, is heartbroken over the loss of the girl who could always make her laugh. Her cousins (Susan, Freddie, Buddy, Lisa, Andrew, Michael, and Tree) mourn their childhood playmate, gone too soon from their lives. Her co-workers shake their heads in disbelief; friends from her local bar sadly wonder who will bring in the balloons on holidays now that Bonnie is gone.

I knew she lived unhealthily, that she did not "honor her body" (as my cousin Lisa so eloquently put it) - it was hard to miss. I knew she was ill - the signs were obvious. I knew there was nothing I could do or say that would convince her to see a doctor, get a check-up, or change her lifestyle - God knows I tried, as did many others. I know that her choices were her own, fully embraced without regrets on her part. I even know that this may have been exactly what she wanted. And yet I weep, so deeply, so mournfully, so sorrowfully for my sister whose life I couldn't imagine living, but whose life I cherished and gratefully enjoyed (in small doses). Would that there were more memories to be made.

And so in the words of the old Scottish folk song, one my mother sang to my sister when she was young, and one that I hope my sister is hearing now, embraced in my mother's loving arms:

My Bonnie lies over the ocean

My Bonnie lies over the sea

My Bonnie lies over the ocean

Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me

Blessings and Love to All.

Cat's In The Cradle

I am the grateful beneficiary of an awesome family of in-laws. Last weekend Warren and I took a trip upstate to visit his brother Glenn and sister-in-law Sharon; his sister Lynne and her husband Dom also took the trip from their hometown in Boonville (and yes, according to Lynne it is exactly as it sounds); unfortunately, his sister Ellen couldn't make it down. So the six of us enjoyed some lunch and then ventured out for a little cross-country skiing at Saratoga Spa State Park.

Now I haven't cross-country skiied in about 25 years (and Warren had never done so) so I was a little apprehensive, but with a little coaching from Dom (who is, in fact, a high school coach) I picked it up again fairly quickly. I was a little slow, partly due to inexperience and partly due to the fact that any gripping activity (as with ski poles) causes my hands to go numb and so I have to stop and let them regain feeling. Everyone patiently waited when this happened although poor Sharon at first thought my hands were going numb from the cold and kept feeling badly that she'd forgotten the hand warmers! I reassured her that it had nothing to do with the weather, which was actually sunny and quite mild. Warren did very well (he picks up most athletic endeavors pretty easily for someone who isn't really that much into sports) and we all enjoyed an hour or so of the crisp air and beautiful scenery. And...I only fell twice!

Back at the house we opened a couple of bottles of wine, gathered around while Glenn and Sharon started dinner preparations, and the evening's festivities began with several rounds of Tabolt storytelling...with a twist, though, as Lynne (not Warren and not Glenn and not even Dom) was the one regaling us with tales and anecdotes that had us howling with laughter ("Pete Lee!"). Dinner was followed up by a vigorous boys vs. girls game of "Guesstures" which Sharon is amazing at so it's too bad that Lynne and I couldn't keep up (the boys won), then a frantic search for an obscure Neil Young song ("Old King"), then a Glenn-and-Dom showdown of made-up song lyrics related to one of Lynne's more, um, bizarre stories.

Warren and I left after breakfast the next morning (after Sharon wittily provided me with this post's title, which only the six of us will truly understand) and as we drove home a wonderful feeling of love and contentment stayed with me the whole way down. I do believe I am as in love with Warren's family as I am with him, and as I send love and hugs out to Glenn, Sharon, Lynne and Dom one thing we all know for sure is that the cat is definitely NOT in the cradle!!

Blessings and Love to All.