Marcia

I visit my sister, Marcia, at least three times a week as does my brother, Rick. I try to go in the morning when she’s more likely to be in the moment. But more often than not, she is in another world. The first time Marcia asked about our younger sister, “What’s up with Ellie? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Oh Marcia, don’t you remember? Ellie died.” She looked at me with horror! “Remember, the unveiling was on her birthday? A Sunday.” I tried to remind her of the different aspects of the funeral. She just stared at me with a blank look. I honestly don’t think she remembered.

Our early years

I’ve always looked up to Marcia, my big sister. (Well, not actually bigger than I am—just older by 2½ years. ) And I guess “always” is not totally correct. When we were elementary school age, we were friends. We played with dolls together, board games and dress-up. Outside, we played games like “A-My name is …” while bouncing a ball, Red Line with our brother, Chucky and other children in the neighborhood and, of course, jump rope.

There were lots of children on our street that ended at Arlington Elementary, the school we attended. Marcia played with a set of twins who were her age and lived down the street. I played with a set of twins my age who lived across the street. There were two other sets of boy twins who played with our brother, Chucky. Poor Ricky, our youngest brother. There were no boy twins his age. However, there were plenty of other boys. Due to the dead-end street, there was no real traffic, so parents never had to worry about our playing in the street!

The teenage life

When I was about 10 and Marcia 12½, things changed. She was entering those horrid teenage years and considered her younger siblings a nuisance. Marcia and I shared a bedroom. I was the messy little sister; Marcia was a neat freak! She drew an imaginary line that set us apart. I was expected not to cross the line to her side. However, she got to cross the line because our shared closet and the entrance to our room were on my side. The dresser was on both sides: her drawers were on her side and the rest on mine.

The real issue was the windows. It was actually a bay window with three sections. Our dad had built wooden boxes, one under each window. Mom made seat covers to keep on top of the lids. We could sit on them and look out the window at all the lovely trees. But because they were on Marcia’s side of the room, I was not allowed to sit there. You can probably guess how well that worked out.

Our adult life

Marcia married when she was just 19 years old. By then, we were almost friends. We truly were friends when I married three years later. Unfortunately, because I married a Marine who was stationed at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, I moved away. Before I-95 was created, it was an 8-hour drive. Obviously, we didn’t come home often. I missed my family, especially Marcia.

By then, we had another sister, Ellie, who was born when I was 13½, and Marcia was 16. Ellie was the flower girl in both of our weddings! During the summer of my first year of marriage, when Ellie was six, she came to North Carolina for a month-long visit. Hard to believe our parents let her fly alone! It was a different world back then. Interestingly, as she matured, we also had a wonderful relationship!

But this story is about Marcia. After four years of marriage, we moved back to Baltimore with our one-year-old son. We were able to buy a home near my parents and Marcia and her family. All of us visited our parents most Sundays. Mom used to tell people, “My children don’t really come to visit me. They come to be with each other!” This was only partially true. We came so we could all be together!

Eventually, Marcia and I each had a son and a daughter. Our sons were just nine months apart in age. They loved playing together at every family function whenever we visited each other or our parents.

There were many occasions that I would ask Marcia for advice: sometimes issues with Mom, sometimes with our children, sometimes even friend issues. And, of course, hubby issues (We both divorced and then married someone else).

As adults, we siblings no longer think in terms of age, who’s oldest or youngest. We’re equal in our relationship status. (Well, mostly. Sometimes Marcia reverts to “I’m the eldest, and I know better!”) 

Our senior years

But now, in our senior years, things have changed. Chuck took his own life three years ago, and Ellie died last year at age 68 of a terrible disease called Multiple Systems Atrophy. It was eight years of gradual decline. She suffered knowing there is no cure, and you just get worse. We siblings, along with Ellie’s husband and son, lived with grief for a long time.

After her husband died ten years ago, Marcia sold their condo and moved to an apartment in North Oaks Retirement Home. And now she has dementia. It started slowly. She would complain that she couldn’t read any more. When she would put the book down for the evening, the next day she didn’t remember what she read and would have to start all over! She forgot conversations we had the day before, what she ate for breakfast or who visited her yesterday. These were not unusual. We all start to have memory issues as we age.

But it got worse. After a fall, when she broke her hip, she was admitted to Levindale to recuperate. She spent two months there and was moved to Autumn Ridge, a step-down facility attached to North Oaks for further rehab.

I talk with my counselor about Marcia’s memory loss, and she said, “Just go with it. Say things like: Oh, she’s working today. Or: She and Steve are on vacation. Or: They went to visit David.” I tried it, and it works. But it breaks my heart.

I continue to visit and stay in the moment. I don’t talk about yesteryear or even yesterday. Now I have only Rick for reminiscing. It’s hard because of our six-year age difference. And a brother, no matter how wonderful or lovable, is not a sister. He probably feels the same way about the loss of our brother, Chuck.

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Read more by Linda Miller.