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Dearest Brenda,
When you entered my life
you usurped my role as the baby of the family; I
can’t thank you enough! You joined our merry
tribe of little cowboys and Indians, leveling
the playing field of Tom, Mike and me by the
addition of another girl. Feisty, strong-willed
and determined to keep up with your older
siblings, you stoically took it all on and
brought new meaning and joy to our family.
That was the year Tom, Mike
and I were on the Bozo the Clown Show and me, in
my inimitable toddler fashion pulled up my dress
and showed everyone my underwear. On national
television!
I have a feeling that if you had been
older at that time, you would have been my
cohort in crime for that fashion statement!
My first true memory of you
was when our mom summoned us kids in for lunch.
First Tom, then Mike, followed by me jumped over
this little fence that surrounded the flowerbed
by the door. You jumped high with those chubby
legs of yours, caught your foot in that fence
and skidded through the doorway on your chin.
You pushed yourself upright, bloody chin and all
and got on with the business of lunch. I don’t
recall if you required stitches, but you were
tough even back then.
Rhonda was born next and
then we moved from Hawaii back to the mainland.
Our parents bought a home in sunny San Jose,
California and Rob was born the following year.
Those halcyon days of childhood and our band of
neighborhood kids exploring the housing
development were sweet with the love our mother
bestowed upon us. When our mom was killed, the
loving center fell out of our universe.
You responded with silence
and for the next six months you would only speak
with us kids. We moved to Whidbey Island to be
near our mom’s family and our father remarried.
Sue and Amy became part of our blended family,
with Peggy coming along shortly thereafter.
We spent time in Greenbank
on the family farm with Uncle Harvey and Aunt
Helmi. They had raised our mom when her parents
were unable to do so. This was the land our
mother grew up on and held tremendous meaning
for us. Remember Uncle Harvey and his wooden
leg? Remember how he allowed us to stick pennies
in it so we could hear him rattle around the
house? We often spent Sunday evenings watching
Disney movies at the farm, eating popcorn and
simply being in the house that echoed with our
mother’s childhood.
Home, if any of us could
call it that was not a happy place, yet we
somehow managed to get through those tougher
days, in part because we are our mother’s
children. The loss of our mom, coupled with
survivor trauma was difficult enough.
Thankfully, our mom’s family was there for us
and Aunt Ellen became in so many ways our second
mom. Tragically, we lost Aunt Ellen when you
were ten and our lives changed once again.
Don’t get me wrong, we had
our glory days filled with the beach and Deer
Lake; bike riding; Fort Casey; camping and
picking sweet blackberries and plucking
huckleberries the color of salmon eggs from
bushes we found amongst the trees. Remember
climbing to the tops of old man Bateman’s trees
and swinging in them until their tops swept the
ground?
Life changed when we moved
to Bonners Ferry. The world was different in
rural Idaho from what it had been on the coast.
In individual ways, we came into our own,
shifted gears into those teen years of angst,
stretched our wings out wide and, in certain
ways, redefined belligerence. I was your big
sister, yet we ran in different circles. It is
amazing how a difference in two grades seems to
be insurmountable while you are in high school,
yet becomes meaningless with age. I still kept
an eye on you though and recall more than one
instance in which I tracked you down and brought
you home so you wouldn’t get in trouble.
After I graduated high
school, I moved away, returning four years later
to get married and have a family of my own. In
that time, you had married and given birth to
Heather, the daughter of your heart. I remember
the battle of wills between you two when Heather
wasn’t quite two years old. I also remember
telling you how much of you I saw in your
daughter. You shrugged your shoulders and
laughed and we talked about how life moves on.
We both missed our mom and all we had been
unable to share with her. You don’t realize the
parenting you had until you become a parent
yourself and I saw so much of our mom in how you
mothered your own daughter.
Our youngest brother, Rob
was killed when I was pregnant with my son,
Lance. Our family came together, knit
collectively by Rob’s spirit and determined to
remain close. While we had lost another thread
in the tapestry of our family, while we realized
that what we had fervently believed could never
happen again, had indeed occurred, we allowed
ourselves to hold on more tightly to that
definition of family. Six weeks later, when I
gave birth to Lance, all that promise that came
into the world with him, all that hope that our
fractured family could heal and move forward
started to come to fruition.
You, Rhonda and I became
sisters in the truest sense of the word. Because
of our kids, family became even more important
and we celebrated their milestones together.
When you broke your knee sliding into base
during a baseball game, you stayed with my
family and me. That month was so much fun as we
figured out how you could wash your hair and
take a shower without ruining your cast. We
spent an entire afternoon painting your cast and
when the time came to remove it, your doctor
didn’t want to ruin our work of art.
Several months later, I had
my own medical emergency when my pregnancy went
bad and I nearly died. I came home to you
scooting around, scrubbing my kitchen floor!
That to me, sister of mine defines family and
what we do for those we love. Shortly after
that, you moved to California, eventually
remarried and gave birth to your son, Kyle. You
loved your kids and being a mom and, while
circumstances being what they were, your kids
weren’t raised together, that doesn’t mean you
loved them less. Heather and Kyle are brother
and sister, loved by a mom in ways they might
not have seen; their character built because of
who you were.
Our lives would touch then
separate; then we would talk, talk as if no time
had passed at all. That we had the ability to do
that was a paramount piece of our relationship.
We loved one another and it was okay if we lived
separate lives. We were there for one another
when we both went through our divorces, in
spirit and mostly on the phone, but we were
there. Time passed and you became a grandmother
before I did.
You spoke often of your love and pride
for Serena and Tyler and reveled in playing
grandmother. We both mourned our mother’s
absence and how our children and grandchildren
would never know her.
This past year of knowing
you, of seeing how those tough, sharp edges had
soften and you had allowed yourself to be
vulnerable to others in ways I had never seen
before, has been a gift beyond measure. We
became closer than we had ever been. We talked
of many things and how we had never fought; that
in all our years of being sisters and the
complexities of our lives we had never
not
spoken due to anger. That was telling of our
sisterhood; the hallmark of why our bond stayed
true in spite of time and distance apart.
And now, you have become a
flower plucked from the garden of my life far
too soon; all that was left to do and all that
was left to say. Damn it girl, I miss you! While
your physical presence is no longer with us mere
mortals in this earthly place, know this: your
presence is indelibly and irrevocably imprinted
on our hearts! When I turn my face towards the
celestial, blue velvet heavens and search for a
brightly shining star, I now find three
twinkling side-by-side.
So, firstborn, younger
sister of mine, this is but merely farewell.
Your memory and name will live on. I will take
another road trip to our mom’s gravesite so a
part of you can rest eternally with her and Rob.
And your mission to eradicate bullying goes on.
Soon, your voice and spirit will resound in
every corner of this country. Go rest high on
that mountain; we have taken up your cause to
stop the bullies of this world, one bully at a
time.
You are loved and missed
and in your absence I have met a number of
people you had become friends with. I have asked
Phyllis, your “sista from another mother” to
share her thoughts. Brenda, Phyllis is a
spitfire woman with a heart of gold. I
understand why you loved her like a sister.
Brutus, take care, give Mom
and Rob a hug for me and make sure Rob washes
his feet!
Forever your big
sister…love,
Lana
“Hey, let’s make our own
damn page!”….Who knew those words were going to
bond a friendship.
Brenda and I met on FB; we
hit it off immediately. Although we talked about
the current news events of the day with such
conviction and passion, at some point the
threads would become humorous and she and I
would match wits. She had the best comeback
lines and soundless laugh.
BAHAhahahaha! became her personal
trademark. Soon others on the threads would be
looking for us when after 5:00 somewhere; they
were all ready to roll and “let loose”.
We soon discovered in our
private messages we both traveled a hard road.
Many a night we would purge our demons and we
became not only friends, but confidantes. We
cried and laughed and at times we would sing
together---you use your imagination on that one
--imagine that music was our passion. She became
sooo excited to learn that I was in fact a
singer and was very excited to hear my craft.
We would refer to ourselves
as “Thelma and Louise” wanting to take that wild
ride and conquer all the evil in the world. Our
mutual passion was to fight child abuse, change
laws and demolish bullying and domestic
violence. Her passion for “rights” and “justice
for all” was a dynamic part of loving Brenda.
She made everyone feel
special and always was in high spirits on the
cover; careful not to let on about her pain, if
only to me in her dark place she would try to
cover.
The inception of “Shoot
From The Hip Current News Group” (as her chosen
title) only cemented our loyalty to one another.
Her sign –off to me was always “ love ya, sista
from another mother”.
No one can ever imagine the
pain that each individual suffers. Brenda
certainly had more then her share. She knows she
was blessed with her wonderful children and
grandchildren. That was very evident.
People ask me: “How do you
become close to someone you have never
met?”(something we talked about doing). It is
difficult to explain the dynamics of FB. I was
never on any chat rooms before… I truly feel God
wanted me to meet Brenda. I truly
know
the friendship was a gift and for that I am
blessed.
There are many stars that
shine in the sky, but very few standout as
Brenda did on FB. She may not have realized all
the hearts she touched and the “worth” of her
inner soul, even with words of encouragement and
love from all who loved her…
On FB you are not just a
face…YOU are a soul, a heart, a mind, a
“magnificent masterpiece” and most of all a
“GIFT”…I LOVE YOU, MY SISTA FROM ANOTHER MOTHER.
(My hand on heart and crying). You may be out of
sight but you will NEVER be out of mind. Thank
you for leaving your handprint on my heart
….till we meet again dear friend. I know I will
know you immediately…by your laugh ……Phyllis
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