I lost my little sister, Patsy, last August. Her birthday was today and I am pausing to share a little about that day. My mother was due on January 12, and so we were all waiting to see when this baby would actually arrive. In those days, of course, we had no idea of whether the baby would be a girl or a boy. I wanted a girl; my brother wanted a boy.
Tired of waiting for the baby, my parents went out for dinner, leaving us with a sitter. My mother had one martini and dinner. At the restaurant she went into labor and they went straight to the hospital. At the hospital, the doctor asked her if she had had anything to drink. When told about the martini, he quipped, “That’s all the pain relief you will get.” But my sister arrived after only 45 minutes, making her entrance quickly to compensate for her late start!
A girl was to be named Jean, after Jeannie with the light brown hair, a favorite song in our family. Patsy, nearly ten pounds, had a full head of black hair. Clearly this was no dreamlike Jeannie. It took at least two weeks before this baby had a name, but they finally thought of Patricia. They skipped a middle name.
She was a happy baby, a cheerful little girl and a life loving grown woman. She fought breast cancer through three different sieges, finally succumbing after all that could be done had been done. She died peacefully in her sleep, as she had wished. I know the angels blessed her coming in and her going out. Love you, kid.