SCOTT KELLY .:

       

Theresa.

Posted: July 21, 2009

Its been a couple of months since I have given in to the writer in me. I am going to try to be more diligent about this but life often interferes with my plans so no promises, as I said in the beginning of this blog, I will write when the spirit moves me…


I buried my sister a week ago. She was a warrior. She lost her final battle somewhat willingly but her spirit is something that will carry on in me and the rest of us eternally. I have many favorite memories of her I would like to share with you 2 of them…

The first time I met her I was 8 years old and living on the East Coast, we had different Mothers and she was a wild child(my Dad had a couple of them) so I hadn’t had the chance to meet her yet. I was home alone and there was a knock on the door, I crept up to the window beside the door and saw the unmistakable twinkle in her eyes that I had only known from photographs that my Dad had shown me.

She saw me and said “Hey I’m yer sister let me in”.

I was so excited to finally meet this person who already was a legend in the family, my very own flesh and blood. She had been hitchhiking around and she was with some guy who I only remember as being a little bit scary, but I didn’t care about him, I just wanted to meet my sister. We went into the house and I remember her being super funny and very nervous about seeing my Dad(you would be too), she asked me if we had any food and she started making sandwiches, it was the first time I ever had a fluffer-nutter. We sat on the floor of the kitchen and ate and laughed as if we had known each other for ever. When we were done she asked me if I wanted some dessert(I was in a state of bliss) I of course said yes and she took a bowl and filled it to the top with whipped cream.
Thats about all I can remember from that day because for rest of the afternoon, we were in the backyard, she was laughing her ass off as I ran and ran and ran in circles in the backyard burning sugar from my blood like a crackhead with a $50 rock.

Flash forward 20 years. Over the the time that passed since our first time meeting we had become very close, her and I were very alike in our lifestyles and our passions. She was such a big hearted person, she had seemingly endless love to give to those who she chose to share it with. At this point in time we both had Families of our own, I had my 2 oldest and she had her 3.

Her youngest was a beautiful girl who had been born with Downs Syndrome. I always respected how she was treated within the my sisters Family. Inside she was always cared for and loved, never treated any different then anyone else, but the humor of our blood was always intact. So as to say that there were more then enough funny things that a child with such and affliction will do, and none of us were made to be afraid to laugh when the happened, never to shame only to release the confusing and painful emotion that stays in your body when you are dealing with a situation like this.
As the child grew she became a unstoppable Family favorite, always at the center of everything and the most loving, hugging, kissing, laughing person I have ever known. When she hit her teens things began to get more difficult for her socially, as you could imagine, and her Family surrounded with protection and safety. Her siblings are 2 of the best hearted people I have ever known.
When the public schools started to try get my sister to put her in a special placement, she refused. They said that a child like this would never learn to read. My sister taught her to read. They said that a child like this could never learn to write or add. My sister proved them wrong. At every turn the schools protested and tried to keep her out of the main stream.

My sister said what she said anytime someone told her something like that “Fuck You”.

At 18 we had a high school graduate, as proud a moment as you could possibly imagine. My sister knew how important it was for this child to do this and for the other people who fought against to see what was possible.
It was a struggle that was defined within struggle itself.

My sister was a fighter, born and bred, from the cradle to the grave she always did as she saw fit. She never backed down from anyone or anything. I am left with a lot of regret of time that I missed with her, but we both were busy doing shit. We loved each other to the end and thats all that counts.
I will never forget the twinkle in her eyes and I will never see a twinkle quite like that again.