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Memories will
have to be enough
By Bob Robinson
She had the face of an angel.
I was this pencil thin nerd ‘stick’ who would go to the beach wearing a
button-down shirt and shorts with black shoes and white socks. My
sister Melinda had boys clamoring around her for as long as I can
remember.
Being Air Force brats we never stayed in one place long enough to have
many friends, so we made the best of it and spent much of our time
playing together. She loved dolls, so sometimes we played dolls. I
loved making things, like building a marble track from old-fashioned
clothes hanger protectors. She helped me build tracks that would circle
my bedroom two or three times before a marble completed its journey.
I remember being angry with her when two men in Air Force uniforms came
to pick us up from school to take us home. I knew why, even though they
wouldn’t tell us – something had happened to our dad – she didn’t.
Thought it was a great adventure. I was 13 (and soon to become angry
with the world); she was 9.
Mom told us dad had died trying to land a crippled B-47. Suddenly I was
the man of the house; something clicked in my head, I guess. Mom tried,
but I was not buying it. When I had to be ‘big brother’ I resented it,
whereas before I probably would have been proud. I remember being a
real jerk once… Melinda wanted to see Elvis in “Jailhouse Rock.” I was
forced to take her; I was not nice about it.
Bless her heart; Melinda remembered me taking her but not that I was a
jerk. She remembered other times when I guess I wasn’t a jerk, either
(at least not according to her).
We both remembered trips to DeSoto, MO, to see our maternal
grandparents, our Grandma and Grandpa Coyle. They lived on a tiny farm
just outside a village so small if you blinked you missed it. We
remembered the good times… playing in the creek, red and black
raspberry bushes when the fruit was perfect to pick and pop into our
mouths, the hundreds of multi-colored butterflies fluttering along the
path to the creek, chopping down our Christmas tree and bringing it to
the house through the snow on a sled…
And we remembered the summer storms. When we were little we slept in
the attic. We had this huge, heavy blanket to keep us warm and we’d lie
awake listening to millions of rain “pellets” slamming against a tin
roof. We’d both grin… that’s when I’d often wonder how I was so lucky
to be a big brother to an angel. A beautiful angel. In my young mind I
sometimes thought maybe she was God’s apology for creating a gangly
nerd… she truly had the face of an angel.
My kid sis was an incredibly beautiful person. Both inside and out. I
never heard a cross word from her about anyone. She was kind, gentle
and loved life. She will be missed by all those who knew her.
My baby sister, Kim, has memories of her big sis… 10 years older than
her. Wonderful memories. And mom has her memories. Good memories. Mom
is 91 and should never have had to experience the loss of her oldest
daughter…
Our memories will have to be enough… Mel gave up her long fight against
the brutality of cancer, Nov. 21. She was 66. See her full Memorial here.
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