Dear Sara, my sweet dead sister,
Here you are, attending the wedding party you missed — and was missed. It’s appropriate that you are included in this picture of the toast because your death — a welcomed ending to your medical adventures — motivated Karen and I to marry.
Snohomish to Bellingham visits were limited to Sundays, in-between I depended on sister-in-law Donna and Peter’s front-row impressions when your cancer was found in the brain. Which meant, a new doctor arrived in your room to discuss your options, he was specialist, an oncologist, practiced in radiation therapy of the brain, in other words, yet another handsome stranger leading your medical adventures. He was a doctor from central casting, like from a “soap opera,” Peter told me.
So the handsome doctor has your attention when he proudly tells you that radiation therapy uses strong beams of energy to kill brain cancer cells, as if it was his invention. According to Donna, you were nodding, even smiling. The doctor, in his spotless white jacket, with his eyes fixed on yours, explains how his team will mould a mask of thermal plastic on your face. A heated mesh material will sink on to your face as it cools, and once ridged, the mask will be bolted to the CT scan table to keep your head from moving. It’s how we target the beams. Nothing to worry about, I imagine him saying. Want to go ahead, he asks, still not looking at Donna or Pete. You nodded in the affirmative, I was told.
There’s a gap in my memory, dear Sara, between the radiation therapy and your move to hospice, where two former Simpatico waitresses came calling with a bottle of wine, shared with you in a glass and a straw. I remember your smile coming back as you talked with them, it may be my fondest memory of your last days.
It seems Karen and I came to the marriage decision without much discussion. After 30 years together, since 1992, it seemed to be a natural thing to do. It must have been when spring was on the horizon, following the winter of 2019, because I suggested April Fools Day and it clicked with Karen immediately.
So we did it; then we got ready for the party.
Nephew Robert was signed up to provide live music with his band for the dancing. Karen and I started it off with Robert’s cover of Leonard Cohen’s, “Always” for the first dance, Peter did the spoken intro:
Oh friends, ... don't matter if you're a man or a woman.
If you're in love with somebody,
These are the words that you got to learn to say.
Now listen carefully. Here it comes...
And our grandchildren were in the band! Karen’s Jordon on the drums, Warner’s Katie on the electric piano, and Brooke on the violin, plus young Natasha's backup dancing.
The fun thing about sister Nan’s clips from backstage is that you can see the guests and shows how Karen and I invited them to dance. I assembled three of Nan’s clips into one. It starts with the vows on the right side of the frame, then we move to the dance floor … love Robert’s intro of Granddaughter Brooke and the sweet, sweet sound of the violin, my favorite. The clip closes with a sample of the band leader’s bond with the dancing guests. Thank you, Robert (thank your band); Brooke; Katie; and Jordon.
We missed you and the sounds of you playing the harmonica, dear Sara. We think about you everyday.
If you are new to this letter, please consider inviting yourself to join us in reading monthly Letters to Sara; and, if you enjoyed reading this letter, pump the heart red and share with a friend. Thanks ~w.
leonard Cohen, a perfect choice; always.