The Anecdotal Life Part. 47

Well, I missed a beat, and I wouldn't have liked myself if I hadn't. I drove back to Michigan for the funeral of my sister, Ann Hance Westerhof, who died on January 12th. I had been going back and forth since this summer. We talked until she couldn't anymore. She said, as her time grew closer, " you talk". So I babbled onward about anything and everything only more and more briefly as she tolerated less and less contact with all of us. Pretty much, on the last visit, she didn't want any disturbances or intrusions as she readied herself inwardly for her journey. However, on the day I left, I was running around with the vaccum cleaner, making my usual goofy comments and she laughed. That was a small victory, but I cherish it. I was always trying to make her laugh. I would tell her of my son's incredible travels to places she would never see. She liked that too.
She had been my protector in life, along with my other three sisters. Whenever things got tight, they'd all get on the horn to commiserate and cajole, suggest and order me about. At the funeral when all the five kids, all the grandchildren and all the husbands to be, cousins, sisters, nieces, nephews, friends etc., had gathered; it was obvious she had been a protector for each and everyone. We all had a lot to lose.
Copyright: January 21, 2007