Friday the 13th I should have realized..
17 years ago on this night, is the last time I spoke to my sister. She died during the night and her death was ruled natural. As if a 27 year old dying in the midst of an epileptic seizure could be considered normal in any sense of the word. But yes, 17 years ago I last spoke to my sister. I’ve been sitting here trying to think of the words we last said to one another. I can remember some of the day, even though it was 17 years ago. It was Friday just like today was, Friday the 13th, a day I now hate. Friday the 13th’s never bothered me, but since her death, it’s all changed. Her date of death is actually January 14th, but she died sometime during the night.
I was working at Store 24, for those not from around New England, it’s like a 7-11. I was a cashier and actually very good at my job. I was actually pretty proud of it, still am. One of the jobs I hated, absolutely hated was stocking the coolers. We had to stock the Pepsi, coke and milk coolers. The milk cooler didn’t bother me all that much because you got to go behind the display coolers and add the milk products in from the back. It was actually easier than pulling all the currently cold sodas forward and putting the warm new sodas in behind them. My sister needed a few dollars and I hated doing the soda coolers so I paid for her and her son to come to my work so she could load the soda coolers for me. She came up in a cab, as none of us girls drove at that time, and she got to work. She loaded up a few of the coolers and we chatted. I believe I paid for the cab both ways too. I think I gave her around $50 for doing the coolers. PJ wouldn’t just take money, she had to earn it. She had to hurry home cause her loser boyfriend was supposed to come over. His name was Jerry or Gerry, however losers spell it. He lived with his Mommy and was studying to be an optometrist. Course after she died, he acted as if he never knew her, as if they never met. He didn’t even show at her funeral or wake. Karma comes so I’ve been told. Just wish I could see his come bite him in the ass.
If I had known that that night, 17 years ago, that it was going to be the last time we saw each other, if I had known those would have been the last words we spoke to each other, would they have been different? I’d like to think yes. I’d like to have asked her some questions, such as, what was the biggest joy in your life? I’d put money it would have been the birth of her son. I’d have been surprised by another answer. He was truly her lives work. I’d ask her, hey sis, if you could have a do-over, what would you do over? If there was anything she’d like for her son to know on the day he graduated high school, the day he got married, the day he became a father, so I could share with him her words for those joyous days as he grew.
Id like to know if she experienced true joy in her life. Or true love?
If the pain inflicted as a child was ever eased by the joys experienced in her life?
I’d ask her if she knew how much I truly loved her. I’d ask her if she knew I knew how much she loved me.
I’d ask her not to leave me. For selfish reasons, but I’d still ask. I’d ask her to stay with me because I needed her in my life, not just wanted, but needed her in my life. There is a void where she was, not in my heart because she’s still there, not in my memories because she’s still there as well.
A supper at my sisters house, she invited every one over, there was always room for one more. Didn’t matter who they were, color, creed, religion, sexual preference whatever, there was always room. Same held true for people needing a place to crash for the night. If she had food, you had a meal. If she had space on the floor, you had a place to crash. One time she had us all over for a big spaghetti dinner. By all I mean there had to be 20 of us in her tiny little four room apartment. She made these meatballs that literally had more salt than the ocean. I mean she put in celery salt, onion salt, garlic salt and salt salt. In fact, that’s a joke we still share! What goes on PJ’s famous chicken? Celery salt, onion salt, garlic salt and salt salt. What goes in PJ’s famous meatballs? Celery salt, onion salt, garlic salt and salt salt! We can recite it like it’s the Lord’s Prayer, it’s just our PJ prayer.
Anyways, to get back to the PJ meal. She had spaghetti that only she could serve where half was al dente and the other half was mooshy. The spaghetti sauce was home made, no jar sauce for PJ, she cooked it all day long in a pan on the stove, it was absolutely amazing. Then she put in her delicious PJ meatballs. I’m telling you, you couldn’t get enough of them. Even if you did have to keep liquids constantly flowing at the same time.She had made these biscuits to go with the dinner, they were literally rock hard. I am not exaggerating, they were so hard we threw them at the brick building across the court yard and piece of brick chipped off the building. We took turns, the 20 of us throwing them breaking off bits of the other building. I wonder if she knew? Wait, I think she was out throwing em too!But when PJ extended a dinner invitation, you jumped in or on any moving vehicle that would get you to her house. She was the hostess with the mostest. She made you feel at home and loved. She made your favorite kool-aid and would have the cup filled with ice when you got there. She knew how each person took their coffee and would never forget.
She was also pig headed, stubborn, was prone to take things extremely literally. She could hold a grudge like nobodies business. She was a pack rat of the best kind. She hoarded things like you would not believe. You’d steal a pack of her gum and she offered you a piece or two out of the pack if you gave her back the pack. Hmmmmm, I can have the whole pack or I can have the two pieces you may or may not give me once you get it back? I’ll keep the pack! She would do dishes for a quarter even if we didn’t finally pay up until after her death. She was funny, kind, compassionate and giving.
She is my sister, a sister I miss more than I can explain, she was more of a human being than I can put in to words here. I shall continue to mourn the loss of her but not as much, I hope, as I will celebrate the life of her!
I was working at Store 24, for those not from around New England, it’s like a 7-11. I was a cashier and actually very good at my job. I was actually pretty proud of it, still am. One of the jobs I hated, absolutely hated was stocking the coolers. We had to stock the Pepsi, coke and milk coolers. The milk cooler didn’t bother me all that much because you got to go behind the display coolers and add the milk products in from the back. It was actually easier than pulling all the currently cold sodas forward and putting the warm new sodas in behind them. My sister needed a few dollars and I hated doing the soda coolers so I paid for her and her son to come to my work so she could load the soda coolers for me. She came up in a cab, as none of us girls drove at that time, and she got to work. She loaded up a few of the coolers and we chatted. I believe I paid for the cab both ways too. I think I gave her around $50 for doing the coolers. PJ wouldn’t just take money, she had to earn it. She had to hurry home cause her loser boyfriend was supposed to come over. His name was Jerry or Gerry, however losers spell it. He lived with his Mommy and was studying to be an optometrist. Course after she died, he acted as if he never knew her, as if they never met. He didn’t even show at her funeral or wake. Karma comes so I’ve been told. Just wish I could see his come bite him in the ass.
If I had known that that night, 17 years ago, that it was going to be the last time we saw each other, if I had known those would have been the last words we spoke to each other, would they have been different? I’d like to think yes. I’d like to have asked her some questions, such as, what was the biggest joy in your life? I’d put money it would have been the birth of her son. I’d have been surprised by another answer. He was truly her lives work. I’d ask her, hey sis, if you could have a do-over, what would you do over? If there was anything she’d like for her son to know on the day he graduated high school, the day he got married, the day he became a father, so I could share with him her words for those joyous days as he grew.
Id like to know if she experienced true joy in her life. Or true love?
If the pain inflicted as a child was ever eased by the joys experienced in her life?
I’d ask her if she knew how much I truly loved her. I’d ask her if she knew I knew how much she loved me.
I’d ask her not to leave me. For selfish reasons, but I’d still ask. I’d ask her to stay with me because I needed her in my life, not just wanted, but needed her in my life. There is a void where she was, not in my heart because she’s still there, not in my memories because she’s still there as well.
A supper at my sisters house, she invited every one over, there was always room for one more. Didn’t matter who they were, color, creed, religion, sexual preference whatever, there was always room. Same held true for people needing a place to crash for the night. If she had food, you had a meal. If she had space on the floor, you had a place to crash. One time she had us all over for a big spaghetti dinner. By all I mean there had to be 20 of us in her tiny little four room apartment. She made these meatballs that literally had more salt than the ocean. I mean she put in celery salt, onion salt, garlic salt and salt salt. In fact, that’s a joke we still share! What goes on PJ’s famous chicken? Celery salt, onion salt, garlic salt and salt salt. What goes in PJ’s famous meatballs? Celery salt, onion salt, garlic salt and salt salt! We can recite it like it’s the Lord’s Prayer, it’s just our PJ prayer.
Anyways, to get back to the PJ meal. She had spaghetti that only she could serve where half was al dente and the other half was mooshy. The spaghetti sauce was home made, no jar sauce for PJ, she cooked it all day long in a pan on the stove, it was absolutely amazing. Then she put in her delicious PJ meatballs. I’m telling you, you couldn’t get enough of them. Even if you did have to keep liquids constantly flowing at the same time.She had made these biscuits to go with the dinner, they were literally rock hard. I am not exaggerating, they were so hard we threw them at the brick building across the court yard and piece of brick chipped off the building. We took turns, the 20 of us throwing them breaking off bits of the other building. I wonder if she knew? Wait, I think she was out throwing em too!But when PJ extended a dinner invitation, you jumped in or on any moving vehicle that would get you to her house. She was the hostess with the mostest. She made you feel at home and loved. She made your favorite kool-aid and would have the cup filled with ice when you got there. She knew how each person took their coffee and would never forget.
She was also pig headed, stubborn, was prone to take things extremely literally. She could hold a grudge like nobodies business. She was a pack rat of the best kind. She hoarded things like you would not believe. You’d steal a pack of her gum and she offered you a piece or two out of the pack if you gave her back the pack. Hmmmmm, I can have the whole pack or I can have the two pieces you may or may not give me once you get it back? I’ll keep the pack! She would do dishes for a quarter even if we didn’t finally pay up until after her death. She was funny, kind, compassionate and giving.
She is my sister, a sister I miss more than I can explain, she was more of a human being than I can put in to words here. I shall continue to mourn the loss of her but not as much, I hope, as I will celebrate the life of her!
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