Over the years, I’ve learned to accept whatever happens in life, whether positive or traumatic. But last month, when my 91 year old sister, Anita, died peacefully in her sleep, her death, even though it could be anticipated, affected me differently than all my other siblings’ deaths. I could easily accept my previous siblings’ deaths, because they were ill. With Anita, I felt more of a loss. What was this strange feeling I had and why? One by one, the siblings were gone. First came Lester, then Paul, Carl, Mary Alice, David, Gladys, Dorothy, Jannetta and now Anita. I came to the conclusion, it was because that part of my life was over now.
As the baby in the family, I always had a sibling to dote on me. No one would be calling me “Baby Carole” anymore. Anita and Jannetta took me on bus trips to Allentown, to show off their baby sister. Into adulthood, I was still “Baby Carole” but for different reasons; Baby Carole is young yet, she can use the sleeping bag or Baby Carole can drop us off at the restaurant. As a young mother, from Dorothy and Mary Alice, I received hand-me-down maternity and baby clothes. Gladys could always be counted on to pull pranks on the sisters. In the early 70s, the sisters “each” celebrated our birthdays together every year, the brothers joining us for breakfast. Together, in the early 80s, for six and a half years, we celebrated our birthdays in our parents’ home, while care-taking for them after their strokes. We, including Mom, loved laughter. I don’t think anyone could beat the laughter the Christman Sisters had in making fools of ourselves. But, that part of my life is over now.
My brothers also contributed to my life in different ways. Lester, and his wife, took me on my first trip to Florida. Paul and Carl, when my family outgrew our home, came and built an addition to our home, all for free labor. David gave me his car, while he did his Army stint, when I was only 16. After my divorce, he gave me a job and a piece of land to place a modular home on. But, that part of my life is over now.
I was blessed to be born to my parents, Mary and Herb. Because Mom wanted to be a farmer’s wife, Pop, “for the love of a woman,” became a farmer. He loved nature, the God-given things. He taught me the wonders of listening to the raindrops on a tin roof on our front porch. Mom, who wanted lots of children, taught me and all the siblings the art of laughter. She was the one who pulled the April Fool’s pranks. She was the one who disrupted her home for Sunday School Halloween parties. Together, Mom and Pop made sure we attended Sunday School and church. That part of my life is over now.
Growing up on a farm, I had a vivid imagination. I enjoyed every nook and cranny of our farmhouse. I knew all the stories in our home, from attic to cellar. Outside the home, I had a vast playground, from barns to sheds, winter and summer games, fields and gardens. Even I have to admit, I did enjoy my days on the farm, even if I didn’t like the work that went with it. As I grew older, I found my passion in writing the stories that came with living on a farm. God knew the big picture. God placed me exactly where I needed to be. I found my passion in writing the stories that came with farm life. But, that part of my life is over now.
Yet, my life isn’t over yet. Within part of my life that is over now, is an overlap with another life with my husband, children and extended families. That part of my life isn’t over yet. Grandma Moses, the American folk artist, didn’t start painting until she was close to 80, and lived to be 101. One never knows how long they’ll live, but I’m excited about all the stories I have yet to write, about that part of my life that isn’t over yet.
Carole Christman Koch grew up in Berks County and has been published in numerous publications. She has a passion for writing and has many stories from growing up on a farm to everyday stories.
