I didn't meet my sister (my dad's daughter from his first marriage) until I was 12 years old and at the time she was already married to him and had a 2 year old daughter.
In the beginning it was hard for me to get used to the fact that I had another sister that I never heard about before. My parents literally sprung the news to me this way: "Oh, by the way, we need to tell you something. You have a sister, she's 10 years older than you, she's married and has a child and they're coming over tomorrow."
For a long time, I rejected her. Something I regretted later as it wasn't her fault that my parents kept this from me. Funny enough, this sister knows me better and is more like me than the one I grew up with. Later, much later, we grew much closer and especially after I had my first child.
They have always been there for my mother, even though it wasn't her mother and my mom has never treated her any other way than if she were her own. My brother in law especially, was always ready to do some work around mom's house, even though he had to drive for an hour and he had a busy life working 5 shifts.
Memories
I called her later in the day and we talked for quite a while. I hadn't spoken to her in a while but somehow every time we do speak, it's like I've never left. She told me that they had given him something to sleep and it would keep him sleeping. Or that's what they thought. They thought he would have given up weeks ago, but something in him kept fighting. Three years ago, he had a double bypass operation and the doctor did a great job at it, but now it was his doom as his heart was so strong that it kept him alive against all odds. The next morning, he was still alive...
She told me it was the worst thing to see. He was already skinny before this all started, but now he was merely bones and skin. She was worried that he was suffering because she couldn't be sure the medication he had was actually doing enough to stop his pain completely. I asked why they didn't give him morphine. He had patches... I told her I thought this was strange, because here in Ireland euthanasia is illegal, but I've heard of cases where the doctor would just give a person a little too much morphine...
She said: "It's inhumane, if a dog is suffering they put him down. My husband is suffering, Euthanasia is legal in
Holland and yet they don't do it." I replied: "You'd almost think to call a vet instead..." "Yes," she laughed, "I've been thinking about that too." We both laughed at the remark. It lightened the conversation a bit.
I asked if they had any idea what this meant. She said that because he was still so strong, it could take days, even weeks.
She sighed. "I hope not, it's breaking us to see him this way."
I was worried about my niece. She never really had a great relationship with him, but was taking care of him now, together with her mother. I'm concerned they will get the full blast of this after he's gone, as she can never go back in time to try and make things better. I had the same when my mother died. All that time wasted not getting along.
We talked a bit more and she promised to call me as soon as there was news.
He is getting the funeral he wants. He planned it ahead of time. It was good that he was able to do this. His music.
Queen will be played and some trucker songs.
He will be moved to the funeral home by truck, he was a truck driver.
He doesn't want coffee and tea for the funeral. It will be beer and wine.
I am now frantically trying to get us to Holland, my eldest daughter and I. It's expensive and I am searching to find the money to go. We have to. I hope we'll make it. If not to say good-bye, then at least for the funeral. We owe this to my sister who has always been there for us.