I am the eldest of three children.
There is a four year difference between my sister, Diane, and I. We were as different as night and day. During our preteen years I was a girly girl and she was a tomboy.
I liked reading and playing with dolls, safely inside the room I shared with Diane. Diane preferred to be outside playing with her friends, or helping Dad with something.
In our early teens I would be left in charge of Diane while Mom and Dad went grocery shopping. I would tell Diane to do something which she wouldn’t do, because I wasn’t the boss of her. Them was fighting words! I would chase her through the house with a yardstick, which I would hit her with, until she’d shut herself in our closet. I would sit on our bed reading a book and waited for her to come out. Usually Mom and Dad got home soon after these “bullying” episodes. Neither of us got into trouble even after we ‘fessed up to things.
By the time adulthood arrived for Diane she was dressing like a young adult would and was wearing makeup and wigs. Her makeup was heavy and worn daily. Wigs were worn constantly. No one saw her actual hair until the day she died.
She married and divorce twice. She had two sons; one by each husband. The boys are thirteen years apart in age.
Her jewelry was real – diamonds, emeralds, and gold. Her first husband was injured in an automobile accident. When all was said and done there was a good monetary settlement awarded. They bought their own home; a boat; an RV; and things for Mom and Dad.
When she was fifty she made some dumb investments and lost a lot. Her health began to fail, she was on oxygen due to Congestive Pulmonary Disease (COPD), and then was diagnosed with valvular cancer. She got radiated once, said it was awful, and didn’t go back. The cancer is what claimed her.
I miss her and the times we shared. I miss talking to her. I just, plain, miss her!