In the past couple of days, the news on my eldest sister Sandy and her illness has gone from waiting to concern to finality – she went to the hospital this afternoon, in northern Virginia where we grew up, and chose to sign a DNR (do not resuscitate) form. Her husband is with her, and her daughter will fly down tomorrow; me, my other sister and my brother are waiting – her husband seems to think it's best that we not come down yet. He says that she could live a day, or a month, it's hard to tell; but there is no longer any discussion of whether she might get better.
I can see why he would keep it to just the three of them – but I wonder if he realizes how difficult it is for the rest of us to wait; Sandy doesn't like a fuss, doesn't like sentiment, but still....
What is especially difficult is that, in a way, this threatens the very shape of my universe: as though one of its most important pillars is toppling. Strange, perhaps, but Sandy actually means more to me than my father (who died, now, how long ago? – July 2000, so more than seven years) or my mother, who has lost much of her memory or ability to function, and lives in a nursing home near Sandy. Sandy is, after all, the person I always most trusted, and modeled myself on – although since her marriage, now 35 years ago (her wedding anniversary is today, the same as Beethoven's birthday), we are only casually in touch, her opinion and image has always mattered to me more than anyone's.
In fact, she has been an attentive reader of this blog; and in choosing what to say and what to leave out, it has been her eye for which it was most specifically designed.
Indeed, if one writes, and talks and thinks and lives one's life, as a sort of letter to those one loves, then the truth is that although I may write those letters to a range of people, Sandy has always been the first, most important, most discerning reader; though there are competitors for the position, she is definitely the most important person in my universe.
I am not sure what to do; like my younger sister, who is keeping a bag packed but doesn't know whether to fly down anyway, I want to be there, want to be around – most of all want whatever time there is to hear her voice, to see her, that there may still be available – it's hard, not knowing what to do from so far away.
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