When my sister and I were growing up. We learned very fast in life we were all we had.
We were placed in an orphanage at the ages of 3 and 5. We did have our grandparents from mothers side, They (well, my grandpa mostly) would come and see us on weekends and holidays. Grandpa would come sometimes when you didn't expect him, and bring bags of candy to all the kids.
We were in an orphanage called, Villa Madonna Della Neve in Tampa Fla. Back than it was called an orphanage. Now they call it a school. Nothing like it was years ago. The nuns were very strict that the rules be obeyed. No matter how old you were. For me they were always pretty nice. Laughing and kidding around. But I never gave them a reason not to be.
My sister was different. She was older, she could see things I didn't. And I don't know if it was her age, or what. But she was scared of everything. I knew she felt so abandoned being there, and never noticed all she was going through. She was very insecure, the reason why she stuck to me like glue. I did know she wet the bed, and that wasn't in the nuns plans. I knew they would have her strip the sheets off her bed, and take them to the laundry room. But I didn't know what they would make her do. My niece told me they made her wear her underwear on her head. I never saw her do it. But I didn't see a lot of what went on. And if I did, you can bet I would have removed them. She also sucked her thumb. Even when she was sleeping. And I don't think that was in the nuns rules.
I remember when we took showers. There was always a bucket with a mop in it. As you stepped out of the shower. You had to swish the floor with the mop. One of the times I grabbed it. A black widow spider jumped on my leg, and bit me. They rushed me to the doctor. It wasn't so bad. The doctor drained the area. And I got a sucker.
By the time I got back to the orphanage. My sister looked like she was in shock. She ran and grabbed me like we hadn't seen each other in years. And we both cried. I didn't stop to think, what leaving her would do to her. Or I would've hugged her and told her I would be right back. I still cry today thinking about it.
A couple years later my mother, her new husband (my step father), and my new half brother (Jim, just born) came to pick us up.
We were now 5 and 7. We remembered our mother dropping us off, and just walking away. My sister never did forgive her. Even though she told me she loved her. She said "she's my mother". As for me, I always remember she did that. There were times in my life I let my mother know how bad it hurt. But that I still loved her.
My sister passed away on May 5th 2021, seven weeks after my mom passed. I was driving as fast as I could to get to her. The last I saw her was on face time. The two days before she passed. We were on my niece's phone. I called to her, and she reached her hands out thinking I was there. She looked side to side trying to see me. I said "I love you, I love you so much". And she said in a wispy voice "I love you", and then turned her head and shut her eyes. She passed the next day. I stayed three weeks to help my niece.
Diane (sister) had published two poems, and while my niece and I were going through her things. My niece handed me a stack of papers. They were poems my sister wrote. She had such a talent for writing. Her poems are amazing. She always told me I was a better writer than her. I'm not even close. She never showed anyone them.
This is one of her poems.
The Madonna was a statue that stood in front of the orphanage in the garden.
Title...Mother Superior...by Diane Peterson
At five
I watched you descend the steps
as I struggled
in the arms of a nun.
I spent days
crouching at the feet of the Madonna
waiting for your return
until she brushed my forehead with her rose,
and told me not to look anymore.
I ran from her
to a wall covered with slime,
a meeting place for monsters
when it rained.
Mass every morning made my stomach ache,
and the smell of incense has
lingered in my nostrils until now.
I still feel the smack
of the nun's hand on my cheek...
Was thumb-sucking a sin?
Back at the Madonna's feet
sobbing in silence;
hopelessness took the place of fear.
I held her rose
to my burning cheek,
but the wall was still there...
At seven
I scarcely noticed your return.
As you led me away
I turned to look back at my Madonna
and trembled with uncertainty,
seeing the tear on her cheek,
As the rose slipped from her hand.
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Author Notes
Because it's a poem/story. Both were about me sister. I posted it under poems.
I wrote the poem the way my sister wrote it. Rough draft.
I'm not a writer of books, and my punctuation stinks. I wanted to put the story to the poem. I pondered over it for awhile. But I felt the poem needed explanation.
I'm sorry it's so long. And the print is so small. It was larger when I was writing it.
The picture is my sisters high school picture.
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