Tag: true stories

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So my sister, Lynda, recently turned 71 (in September.) And yes, that’s Lynda with a “ y.” I love that about her name. I don’t know why it’s a “y,” or where it comes from, but it is, and for whatever reason, I think that’s pretty awesome. – Honestly, I think it’s almost as awesome as she is!

I’ve always said that God gave me only one sister, but in my opinion, He gave me the best one, at least for me He did. Lynda really is something, but I also think she probably got way more than she bargained for where I’m concerned.

As the family stories go, rumour has it that Lynda always wanted a baby sister. She wanted one so badly in fact that apparently she used to take our brother (who was born between us) and dress him up in her doll clothes (which I’m sure he really appreciated….. NOT!!!!!)

So when I came along, I guess that stopped, and Lynda now had the baby sister that she always wanted. But sadly, as I say, she probably got more than she bargained for and here’s why:

When I was around 16 months old and Lynda was about to turn 13, our mother had to go to St. John’s for some tests. She expected to be gone for only a few days and she assured Lynda that she would be back in time to throw Lynda a big 13th birthday party which would include anything Lynda wanted for her party.

But Mom didn’t return home until the next February. In St. John’s, doctors discovered that Mom had Breast Cancer and in the early ‘60’s the odds of beating breast Cancer were far less than they are today. Now, in no way am I saying it’s not a big deal today. I would never say that in a billion years, but back then, it was far less treatable.

So with none of us knowing this, (and communication wasn’t what it is today either) Lynda found herself having to drop out of school at that young age,(grade 9, I think) and basically became a surrogate mother, because she needed to look after me, run the house, and all which that entailed. And God love her. She did it so incredibly well and obviously, Lynda and I grew very close.

I remember when I was really little. For some reason I usually called her ‘La.’ (law) In the morning I used to wake up and call “La!… Up La!… Up!” She would usually came walking into the bedroom with some kind of greeting like “Oh, Sleepy-head’s awake finally, eh?” And then she would proceed to get me up. On the odd morning when she wasn’t home for whatever reason, I’d get really upset, (especially if it meant our father getting me up.) I would fuss a lot and say: “No Dad!… Not you! Go away. I don’t want you. I want La!… Where’s La?” I was never quite satisfied until Lynda returned.

I remember her taking me out a lot in my stroller. She’d take me anywhere and everywhere, even if our father disapproved – which he always did. Our father was kind of a paranoid old guy. Honestly, even when he was young he was old.

I remember him always saying, “Oh, you can’t go out it’s too cold!” or “Oh, you can’t go out because it’s too warm..” or “You can’t go out because it’s raining. You can’t go out because it’s too sunny. It’s too windy It’s too….” You get the point. But Lynda would wait for the right moment and then off we would go, on our latest adventure, wherever it was.

When I was 11, I moved to Ontario. Looking back, I can now only imagine the heartbreak that Lynda felt. In those days people did not travel, at least not anyone that we knew of. If you went away, you moved away. You were gone for good. So in all probability, Lynda must have presumed that she would never ever see me again. As years went by though, travel became more normal and I would fairly regularly fly back to Newfoundlandk, dividing my time between staying with Lynda’s family and my brother, Howard’s family.

I would find it hard to imagine that anyone has a sister who is more proud of them than I do. Lynda is amazing. She has always been immensely proud of all my accomplishments, all my success – everything. She has always, in her own way, been right there, cheering me on and always being the very proud sister.

When I graduated from college, Lynda (who rarely travels) flew up to Ontario for my graduation. She also made my complete outfit that I wore that day. When I got married not only did she make my complete wedding outfit but I learned later that she had taken a wedding picture and got it put in the local newspaper. A while later, when my ex and I moved to Newfoundland and started to get to know people, we met a woman who also had CP. One of the first things she ever said to me was this story:

“ I was in the mall one day and this woman came walking right up to me – almost in a marching strut. I didn’t know who she was – she didn’t know who I was, but she proceeded to tell me that she has a sister who has Cerebral Palsy, w\as a college graduate and just got married!” The woman went on to say: “After telling me this, she simply turned around and walked away.” This story made me laugh because yeh, I can see Lynda doing exactly that!

I have so many reasons to feel so blessed to be able to call this woman my sister. She is kind, caring, genuine, compassionate, and fiercely protective of the people she cares about.

Here is another one of my favourite memories of Lynda. One day we had gone down to Corner Brook to have lunch at the mall. As soon as we got to the food court, my ex did his usual dart off to go hit the music stores, book stores, etc. Lynda went to get our lunches, so I was just kind of sitting there watching all that was going on around me. I watch Lynda go over to this food concession place, where she was going to buy our lunch. All of a sudden I see her with this humongous basket of french fries! It was just gigantic!

I was sitting there thinking, “What the hell is she doing? We’re never going to be able to eat all those fries! Is my sister losing her mind, or what?” Then I see her turn and walk in a completely different direction than what I expected her to. So now I’m really thinking: “What the hell…..?” I was very confused and maybe even a little concerned about her mental state, but I continued to watch. She heads straight for another table with a group of school kids. There may have been 6 or 8 kids at the table, (I don’t know how many exactly,) but she walks over, plops the basket right in the middle of the table, turns around, and walks away. She then goes back to the food concession and orders other stuff. I just sat there completely floored and completely in awe at this woman. When she came back to our table she says: “You know, those kids…. That’s the only thing they’ll eat for lunch. They have no money, their parents are on welfare. How can they learn on an empty stomach? They need something in them!” Even now when I think about that, I’m still in awe. I still think: “Wow, if more people had that kind of generosity, spirit, and grace, what a different society we would have. What an incredible lady; and I happen to be related to her!”

One final memory of pride that I feel with this woman:
I was returning to Ontario from one of my visits to Newfoundland. The airline people had pre-boarded me. I had said my goodbyes and I was just waiting for the other passengers to board, when I felt this woman behind me stand up and tap me on the shoulder. I turned to look and there’s this little old lady. She kind of smiled and asked: “Are you related to Lynda ***?” I smiled proudly and said: “Yeh, I’m her sister.” The woman then said: “I thought so – because you look just like her.” I smiled and thanked her. Then I just sat there with such a good feeling of happiness; knowing that in many ways, I am like my sister and everyone says my sister is just like our Mom. So I guess I am also like my Mom, which gives me great joy in knowing that such a great woman lives on, through her daughters.