What can YOU say in six sentences?
With panic and terror, I physically barged into the operating room that fateful day so indelibly scorched in my mind only to see two valiant doctors pounding on baby sister Patricia’s’ chest, trying to revive her loving and creatively talented twenty-five year old heart.
When I was forcibly removed from the room by brother Gaz’s burly arms, I could feel his watery tears on the back of my neck and I callously sneered at my older sister Lila on bended knees, praying to her Godhead and only selfishly worried that I would certainly be the one elected to tell Gladys the gruesome news and drive another dagger into her failing heart.
It was that silly circumstance of birth of being number five; the youngest of the oldest group and the oldest of the younger group that gave me an anonymity to be Gladys’ confidant and they all knew Gladys would never fight my words but gratefully on that day, the Appellate court of Pa was blissfully lost in dementia.
Patricia was the youngest of Gladys’ brood and from the day she was born on life support to that fateful day in the operating room, she was always fighting against the curve of life and never stood much of a chance in the ugly world she acquired.
The description of ‘wild child’ was an easy application and only painted a small part of her picture, an ever smiling little gem that was too honest and pretty to survive on the drug infested ‘mean streets’ of life, succumbed.
We all never quite accepted the ‘why’ and bitterly rejected the ‘how’; it was her first mainline and last; two days later my picture-perfect baby sister was gone and another piece of Gladys died with her, hiding a torrent of denial screams behind her patented stoic tear stained face.