Reader's Discretion Advised - two weeks out

The following is a frank sharing of some of my experiences with & impressions of my sister, Mim (Joann) Lockhart.  It is as objective as I could make it, which means there are parts that others might find highly objectionable.  

One of the most challenging things about someone dying is that we are suddenly meant to only focus on the bright & sunny, the positive & uplifting things about him or her.  Which is a great pity, because it is the breadth of the person, the dark shadow balancing the bright beaming light, that gives a life its warp & woof, its color & texture.  Limiting ourselves to just the upbeat, the glowing, is to reduce a life to one dimension.

Anyone who knew my sister, Mim (Joann) Lockhart, experienced a unique individual, but few would describe her as sunny.  Her remarkable inner light was impossible for even a fairly casual acquaintance to miss, but the same fairly casual acquaintance would probably come away with a sense of her darkness, too.

I was her baby sister, younger by eight years.   Thinking about Mim recently, in the context of the song, The Impossible Dream, it struck me that for all the time I knew her, she always seemed to be bearing an unbearable sorrow.  My suspicion, knowing Mim’s inexplicable & implacable self-loathing, is that an “unrightable wrong” happened to her when she was very young, certainly before I was born.  Even a cursory look at our funky family dynamics supports that conjecture.

Looking back, two weeks after Mim’s death, what angers me is that I was never allowed to reach out to help her.  She couldn’t accept help from me;  I never understood that, but came to accept it.  If I could have gotten others – others she could connect with – to join with me…  But Mom couldn’t, others wouldn’t. Or maybe they couldn't either.

Looking back, two weeks after Mim’s death, I take comfort in the fact that I tried - over & over.  Then, as now, it tore me apart, experiencing my adored older sister trash herself & sometimes innocent others, that no one else would or could stand with me, for her.   It seemed wrong then, it still seems wrong. 

My sad truth is that while I might have been a spur the family needed, I was absolutely positively NOT what they wanted.  I take after my Dad, am a Lockhart through & through.  Learned not that long ago that I was not the only sib to take after our father.  When I was 55 - almost 50 years after his death - it hit me for the first time that my next-up sibling, Ian, shared the Lockhart trait of questioning & probing.  The rest of my sibs seemed to take after Mom, preferring to believe what felt comfortable - if it didn’t feel comfortable, they didn’t believe it or morphed it into something that was at least acceptable.

I always & forever believed in my sister.  As it turns out – two weeks after her death – that leaves me in an excellent place.  I have no regrets over actions not taken on her behalf – I did everything I could, even if it was shut down by others.  Now, I’m finding that the best & brightest parts of my big sis, the qualities I admired & wished upon countless evening stars were mine, seem to be touching & entwining with my spirit.   Separate, still very Mim, not integrating with but influencing & inspiring my deepest self.

There are qualities of Ian’s that I love & honor & emulate as much as I can – his love of all creatures, trusting ways & nurturing heart.  They are part of my own heart.  

What I’m experiencing with Mim is far more – her best & brightest qualities call to be part of the very warp & woof of my life. It's as if Mim's been cut into stars & appliqued across my spiritual fabric, making my world so fine that people will smile & wonder at the joy in my step, the firmness & fierceness of my determination to make a difference.  One person, two spirits...

Two weeks after Mim's passing, am remembering a card I sent her years & years ago with the following sentiment.  

Mim - loved you then, love you now, love your forever.  
ALL of you.