My Sister

 

(Carole, back row, third from left)

 

My parents were excellent Catholics. They didn't stop having kids until God told them it was time to stop having kids. Thus my sister Carole was eleven years older than me and her firstborn son was only a year younger than my baby sister. Mom and Carole were raising babies together -- that's how it worked. Mom was a grandma at age 38. 

Carole got married and moved out of the house while I was still a gap-toothed adolescent. She and her new husband rented an apartment in our tiny town, a couple of blocks away from my elementary school. Sometimes I'd chill at their flat after school. My brother-in-law was attending school after work to enrich his job opportunities. I don't recall what he was studying, but I remember seeing his leather-bound books on their apartment shelf and being mightily impressed. Carole and I would listen to AM radio while she scurried to get dinner ready. Carole's place was comfortable and homey.

Being the oldest child, she bestowed upon me my nickname shortly after I arrived home from the hospital. Thenceforth I was Shelly and only used my formal name for school (because it was required). 

When our mom set forth on her short-lived restaurant venture, taking me with her, she left my little brother and sister in Carole's care while our dad worked the fields. Carole had two kids of her own by then, but what were two more?

Carole was full of ideas, not all of them necessarily good, but she approached each one with gusto. She approached life with gusto -- wide-eyed, ready for the next adventure. She was by far the most optimistic person in our family and the most jovial. Nothing seemed to get her down and she was always quick to laugh. I think she got that trait from our dad, who was naturally happy-go-lucky, although he had his demons, too. I marvel that either Carole didn't let things get to her or she was the world's greatest actress. She also wasn't a scold -- if someone in the family did something everyone else frowned upon, she just shrugged it off. Life was too much fun for negativity. 

Dad, Mom, my youngest siblings and I traveled to Fort Worth for a visit and Carole lamented that she missed spending time with the family. We commenced the two-day drive home and pulled into the driveway only to spy a car with Texas plates pull in behind us. Carole and her family had decided to pull up stakes and move, just like that. (Her husband was a notoriously fast driver, so they probably had a little time to pack their belongings.) I'm certain it was her idea and she had made it sound like so much fun, every member of her family thought, heck yea!

That was Carole. Whereas my second oldest sister and I were cautious and my big brother was calculating, Carole could talk all of us into abandoning our inhibitions and darting off on a new quest. And it was fun. I don't think I ever laughed as much in my life as when I was around her.

My sister died today. She was seventy-six. Her four sons were with her. Life wasn't especially easy for her after her divorce. She worked long past the time she should have been home enjoying her grandchildren. I bet she never complained, though, and simply thought of it as another of life's adventures.

Bye, Carole. Please share a laugh with Mom and Dad when you see them.