My sister, my self

My mother passed away early this morning. The support and love shown both online and off has been inspirational. I disappeared for a while there, even walking away in mid-conversation with some of you, for which I apologize. The coming days should see me gradually become more active here again. In the meantime I’m tending to my mother’s affairs. Special thanks to my aunt and cousins for everything they have done over the last couple weeks and continue to do, to Roger and Jeanne for giving me a place to crash near the hospital and grab a few hours sleep here and there, and to Jennifer for keeping everything in my personal life going while I was preoccupied. My aunt wrote this wonderfully frank tribute to my mother today, packed with plenty of adorable childhood pictures. Be well, and take care of your loved ones.


13445327_1018435218226814_5180474692144154131_n I love this picture of Jill, standing between Ginger F. (right) and me. Look at that laugh while we’re in the snow, waiting for the school bus at Ballietts’.

Jill is dead. My younger sister, 69, my sweet, funny, bright, troubled, generous, kind, sad sister died at the beginning of this first day of summer.

I’ve been waiting, but not ready, for this day since she nearly starved herself to death as a high-schooler. We had no word for anorexia then or any tools for dealing with it, and I think that’s when she ruined her health. She had a Scarlett O’Hara-sized waist, and her hair came out by the handful.

I don’t remember when the pendulum swung waaaay back. I must have been in Boston, struggling with a college life for which I was completely unprepared.

When she was in college, we, meaning our mother, started getting the dramatic phone…

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