the editor talks with you

In the still of an August night, my sister and I often talked about the future. We would sit there on her bed and talk about what we would do when we grew up. The house was dark and quiet and she would say, “Listen. Can you hear them?” We both could. My mother and father were in their bedroom. The soft sounds of their voices and laughter drifted across the hall. What they were talking about we could not tell. But that wasn’t important. What was important to us was that they enjoyed and loved each other. John Eldredge writes in his book, “Epic,” that children need to know that their patents love each other even more than that they love them. I know it gave my sister and me a sense of belonging. We felt secure. Those of us who have not experienced it do not know the pain and insecurity the children of divorcing parents endure.

My sister was one of my best friends. She was 3 years younger and looked up to me. That became a terrible responsibility – to live up to what she thought of me. We were independent-minded, strong-willed children. That meant we often disagreed. We did not always like each other but we never stopped loving each other. The first Christmas I came home from military school, she told me she had missed me. It was a compliment. It touched me. It was also a reminder that I had to watch what I did if I wanted to retain her respect. My sister was named for our mother and our mother’s sister, Maureen Elizabeth. We simply called her Betty. Betty aspired to become an actress. When MacLeod and I moved to New York for a better job with higher pay, she convinced my father to let her join us. She did not let him know she would be living in Manhattan miles away from us in the suburbs. I like to think that subterfuge was to ease our father’s mind that his only daughter would live alone among drug dealers, pimps and other nefarious big city types.

She met and married a fellow actor. She found a rent-controlled apartment for them. With the uncertain income of actors, a rent-controlled apartment was a blessing. Betty found a second career as an occupational therapist, working with children who suffered autism and other disabilities. Our son Mark and I sat in her classroom one day and watched her work with these children. Her patience with them, her love for them was amazing. She had really found her purpose in life Her daughter Claire is now married and has two babies of her own. She and Mike live in Chicago and have tried to convince Betty to move from New York. She wouldn’t do it. She lived alone in a small apartment in New York. I don’t think she was lonely. She had what she wanted.

Claire called the other morning. Betty has been showing early signs of dementia. Claire had asked Adult Protective Services to keep an eye on her mother. When she would not answer her phone or the door, they called the police. They found Betty’s body in her apartment. I believe she went peacefully. And I believe she is now in a far better place.

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Jerry Bellune shares insights and inspiration from his book, “Your life’s Great Purpose” with local goups. To book him, email JerryBellune@yahoo.com