The Birthday Gift
My mother didn’t always deliver on her promises but there’s no doubt she tried.
When she told me I was going to be a big sister, 3 ½ year old me didn’t exactly understand what that meant but my mother made it sound like something I was going to be happy about. Or at least she hoped I would be.
Neither of my parents was a first born, they were both the “babies” in their families and were never supplanted by someone new knocking them off the perch of first, last and only. So, my mother wasn’t exactly coming from a place of experience about what a child goes through mentally and emotionally at being told – “move over and make room because someone else is moving in. And you’ll be happy about it.”
For months I was “primed” about what to expect when this blessed event occurred and I do recall asking questions, mostly as to when this was all going to happen and who was this person who would be sharing space with me – right down to the same bedroom.
Names were chosen by my parents to help me begin to accept the introductions before they were made, and as I couldn’t visualize what a sibling was going to look like I created an image of this Stephen Paul who would be part of my life. I was often reminded by my mother that it might not be Stephen Paul. It might be a Valerie Jean. I was torn because I had my heart set on a little brother. But if I had to have a sister then Valerie had a nice ring to it. I liked the name Valerie better than I liked my own.
The day came when my mother delivered that sibling to me. I had been taken to stay overnight with my mother’s best friend and her family – and their daughter who at the time was my best friend. On the morning of the 14th of May when I woke up, my father was sitting in the kitchen having coffee, waiting to tell me the news that the night before, my mother had delivered the baby, and I was now officially a big sister. In my partial excitement I wanted to know about Stephen Paul, only to be told that I didn’t have a brother, I had a little sister. Disappointed and switching gears as only a 3 ½ year old can I asked when I’d get to see Valerie Jean. Apparently there was no Valerie Jean either. To my shock I was told that there was an Arlene who was going to be very excited to meet me. Silence from me because in all the months of preparation leading up to this momentous news, I had no idea “what” an Arlene might be. Trust me, I soon found out.
The two of us were chalk and cheese. When she started talking she couldn’t say my name and I became “she-she” so I decided to call her “leenie”. Those names faded as we grew up but when either of us was frustrated with the other, we hurled those names at each other and then laughter would ensue ending whatever injustice we had suffered from at the other’s hands.
As children we were more often antagonists than friends but as we grew older into our young adult lives we became friends. We supported one another during tough times, and we cheered for one another during the successful moments. I was the dreamer; Arlene was the grounded one. We learned from each other in all the ways large and small. We never competed against one another and there were challenging times in our lives when we could have. Instead, we championed each other.
And then that little sister suddenly left this world at an age much too young, before we were able to discover what life would be like growing older together. The memories I do have sustain me. I speak Arlene’s name often, and I have kept her memory alive for my children.
Our shared memories stopped before I was ready to let go. I don’t think I’ve let go yet. I probably never will. She’s with me every day in so many ways. I feel her presence. I can still hear her laughter. I think of Arlene when certain songs are played. I can hear her whisper encouragement when I need it the most.
Today would have been my sister Arlene’s birthday. I have no gift to give but this homage to the person who bumped me off that perch and became my sidekick and my best friend. When she loved someone, did so with all her heart and entire being. People and animals. Arlene taught me from the day our mother placed her on my lap and in my arms how to give and receive love. She taught me to believe in myself when I needed it most. I hope our life together was an equal give and take. I hope she knows the impression she left on the great many people she met along her path who liked and respected her. And those who loved her to the moon and back simply because on that 13th day of May Arlene made her entrance into the world. And it was never the same again.