Success and Failure Blog

This story was written for my friend, Sandra Stiles, a public middle school teacher who lost her older sister and best friend, Gloria, a year and a half ago to pulmonary problems. It was her wish to spend time with her sister again.

It had been one of “those” days. Sandra’s students had been exceptionally rude, uncooperative and snotty all week and she was done. It had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to keep her cool and deal with them according to the current parameters. How she longed for the days when principals and teachers could paddle their young charges into better behavior but now the inmates were running the asylums!

It was Friday afternoon and she had a short weekend in which she must cram grading of papers, reading challenges, dealing with family, cleaning house, etc., before it all started over again. Something had to give. She felt like a rat on a treadmill!  She was burned out and needed some kind of retreat.  She lugged her papers, books and laptop to the car and drove home, going over in her head all the things she needed to take care of before she could go to bed. She was exhausted just thinking about it.

When she got home, she checked the mail and found nothing but a brightly colored envelope in her mailbox. No junk mail, no circulars, nothing else. She looked at it closely.  Her heart practically stopped when she recognized the handwriting of her sister, Gloria, on the envelope:

“Special surprise inside for my little sister, Sandra”

All the other items in her arms slid out and fell unnoticed onto the pavement as she began to shake. If this was Brad’s idea of a joke, it wasn’t funny! She began to fume. She ripped open the envelope and suddenly the world around her began to spin faster and faster. It felt like she was caught in a tornado but instead of dust, rooted up bushes, and farm animals swirling around her, the wind was glittering like fairy dust.  When the whirlwind finally stopped she struggled to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding and she felt dizzy. She looked around and sucked in her breath.

“Toto, I don’t think we’re in Florida anymore …” she murmured to herself. She didn’t know where she was! She looked around and saw beautiful, undulating meadows as far as the eye could see, weeping willows scattered here and there and in the midst of it all, a lone white clapboard cottage with a wrap-around porch, a white picket fence, geraniums growing in the black window boxes and lacy white curtains blowing in and out of the windows with each sigh of the wind. Under the eaves an orange canary was trilling a beautiful tune in its cage. With a surge of nervous anticipation, Sandra walked up to the front door and raised her hand to knock.  Before her fist could meet the door it flew open and she found herself enveloped in a giant bear hug, her vision obscured by a cloud of curly, golden brown hair.

“Sandra! Sandra! Sandra!” cooed the familiar and beloved voice rocking her in strong arms. Tears burst out of Sandra’s eyes and she pushed herself back enough to take in the view. Standing there, alive, healthy and beaming was her dearly departing sister Gloria! “Welcome!” Gloria bellowed, her grin spreading from ear to ear.

“What, who, when, how-“ screamed Sandra looking her up and down over and over again, sounding like a journalist pursuing a story.

“God decided you deserved a weekend retreat quilting, crafting, talking and eating!” Gloria announced, her face beaming. “I have all the supplies we need, all our favorite foods but no television, no phones, and no surly students.  Just the two of us! Two peas in a pod!”

“How is this possible?” Sandra demanded, allowing Gloria to pull her into the house by the hand.

“With God all things are possible!” Gloria responded with a mysterious wink, making it quite clear Sandra was going to get no further explanation.  She entered the cottage and sucked in her breath at its’ cozy charm. White painted floorboards, white wainscoting, cheerful yellow walls with red accessories here and there, a large quilter’s table with two chairs with a quilt already started stretched across it. There was a smaller crafter’s table with supplies spread all over it, a cheery fire in the fireplace, and a sideboard loaded with all the comfort food one could want and in the background soothing Christian worship music was playing.

“The Master thought of everything!” beamed Gloria, rubbing her hands with glee. “I’ve have been longing for this day for over a year!”

At these words, sobs bubbled up outside of Sandra and she covered her face with her hands, remembering the sorrow and grief at losing her sister and best friend in the whole world and the day of the funeral when she had had to say “goodbye”.

“Gloria-“she choked, unable to express what she was feeling. Gloria’s smile didn’t fade but her eyes became tender and understanding.

“I know it hurt to lose me, Sandra…” she said, enfolding her sister in her arms again to comfort her. “But I really am in a better place.  Heaven is more lovely than I could ever express and doesn’t it make it seem that much more real to you now that you know someone you love is there waiting for you?”

Sandra nodded feebly, unable to speak.

“We won’t be parted much longer,” Gloria said, rubbing her back tenderly, “and you will always have this time together again to look back on and find joy and hope when you need it.  Now, dry your tears, sit down and let’s start! What do you want to do first?!”

With that the sister’s sat down and spent what seemed like an entire week talking, laughing, quilting, eating and just enjoying one another’s company.  Sandra never saw her sister cook anything but every day and at every mealtime there was new and wonderful food all prepared, piping hot and then mysteriously cleaned up so that they could spend their time just having fun.

It all came to end too soon for Sandra and the day arrived when there was no more food prepared and all the craft projects had been completed, much to the sister’s satisfaction. It was the best time Sandra could ever remember having, completely free of responsibility, deadlines and interruptions. Just “Sandra and Gloria” time. She was sad to have it end.

“There is one more thing…well, several more things, surprises really, we have for you before you return.” Gloria said, sitting her down in a large, overstuffed cotton chintz floral chair.

“What?” asked Sandra, wondering what on earth could possibly be better than the week she had just spent with her sister? Her soul felt thoroughly refreshed but she was still apprehensive at having to leave and face the real world again. The pressure, the deadlines and the students who acted as if they were serving a prison sentence instead of being given the privilege of getting an education that would help prepare them for life…

“Just wait and see!” Gloria grinned, sitting down in a chair next to her, clutching Sandra’s hand to her heart with excitement. At that moment the doorbell rang, practically making Sandra jump out of her chair in fright. For an entire week there had been no noise but the sound of their chatter, laughter, music and eating. It was so abrupt it really startled her. With a grin and a wink, Gloria went to the door, and flung it open to reveal a tall, distinguished looking executive.

He was dressed in a gorgeous pin-striped business suit, was clean-shaven and had a suitcase in his hand. He walked right up to Sandra’s chair, got down on one knee, took her hand in his and in a wavering voice said just two words: “Thank you!”

Sandra was speechless and didn’t know how to respond. After him came another man, this time it was a professor of literature, then a woman in a nurse’s uniform; on and on it went until the room was filled with professionals from all walks of life of varying ages, all standing there and looking down at her with eyes brimming with tears and smiles of gratitude.

“Gloria…” Sandra said, rising to her feet, her voice shaking. “Who are all these people?”

“We have all been students of yours at one time or another or are yet to be,” explained the nurse, gesturing to all those around her.

“I don’t understand…” Sandra said, although she was beginning to get an inkling of what was happening.

“At one time, during the course of our lives as your students, (both past and yet future) you gave each one of us either an encouraging word, a helping hand, or maybe just an understanding smile that made all the difference in the course of our lives,” said the first man. “We were on a road that was leading us nowhere but the fact that you gave of yourself to us as a teacher and mentor changed everything.  We have all asked for special permission to come here and tell you thank you so that you will know that your labor has not been and is not in vain.”

“Thank you Ms. Stiles!” they all chorused, gathering around her.

Sandra turned and looked at Gloria who was crying and laughing at the same time, beaming at her little sister. “Never forget, little sister, just how very proud I am of you!” Gloria said and held her close for one last long embrace.

In that moment, Sandra knew that everything was going to be better no matter what the circumstances of life might bring.  She closed her eyes…ready to finally part if only for a little while.

Gloria wasn’t really gone, she was just on the other side of the veil, waiting on the day when Sandra too would join her and their reunion would be permanent. For now, it was sufficient to realize that all she did day in and day out at school, in her church and at home had a meaning and purpose much greater than she would ever be able to know this side of eternity and for now…that was enough.

Michele Fritzler is the sister of my first love, Barry Henriot who died of a brain aneurysm when I was 22 and he was 25 back in 1982.  After his death I “adopted” his mom (Ruth) and father (Al) and had dinner with them every Sunday for a few years until Ruth and Al moved up to Oregon to be closer to their daughter, Michele,  in 1991. Barry and Michele’s dad, Al died in 1994.

Even though I have only seen Michele less than a hand full of few times, we have come to accept each other as “sisters” because of our mutual love for her family and especially Barry.  He has been gone for so long that there is barely anyone remaining in her life that ever knew him; making his existence in the past that much more unreal. It was with panic last December that I realized that I had lost her mom’s mailing address and phone number and was desperately hoping that I would get her annual Christmas card so I could tell her that my book was going to be published with a dedication in it to Barry that I had put in there more almost 30 years ago.

I fired off a letter to her the next day asking her to call me and that I had something important to tell them. To my relief I got to speak with Ruth on 12/15/08 and let her know that the story I had worked on for so many years was going to be published.  Ruth sounded like her old sweet self but much more frail.  I promised to send her a copy of the first book off the press as soon as I got it.  In early January 2009 I mailed a copy of The Victor to Ruth who was now living with Michele and a few weeks later I got an urgent email from Michele asking me to call because she had lost my phone number.  With dread I called and Michele told me the news which just broke my heart.  Ruth had died about a week earlier and my book had arrived on the day of her funeral.  I couldn’t help but burst into tears.  Ruth Henriot had been like a second mother to me and she had never gotten to see the book dedicated to her long gone son, Barry, who I had loved dearly.

Last August I got to see Michele for perhaps only the third time in my life but it was just like being with family.  We talked for hours and reminnisced.  Michele is the only member left of the Henriot family but like me, we hope to all be reunited again.  This story is my gift to her.

More Than a Memory

The rain came down in heavy drops and in only moments, Michele’s hair and clothes were drenched.  Living in Oregon for years, she never carried an umbrella (only the tourists did) and put up with the constant rain like everyoe else.

Now rivulets of cold rain water were beginning to run down inside her collar and drench her from the inside out. She needed to take cover.  To her right was a revolving door leading into a Starbucks and without a second thought she ducked in for a quick respite and a  white chocolate raspberry latte to warm her up.

The site that greeted her eyes paralyzed and completely disoriented her.  She blinked, rubbed her eyes and shook her head, her mouth gaping as her surroundings refused to change back into reality.  Before her was the living room of her Huntington Beach home the way it looked when she had lived there with her brother, Barry.  Immediately tears sprang into her eyes with the familiar ache that clutched her heart.

“Is that you Michele?” sang a voice from the kitchen.  The beloved voice sent a thrill through her heart and her voice caught in her throat. Had she fallen unconscious? Was she having a dream?   Having received no response, Ruth poked her head through the doorway. “Cat got your tongue?” she grinned at her dumbstruck daughter.

Michele’s mouth moved but no sound would come out as she stared at the face of her dear mother who had passed away just under a year ago.  At that moment a figure walked up behind her and pinched her in the ribs, making her scream. She whirled around and standing there alive and as if he had never aged, was her brother Barry.

He grinned at her and gave her a bear hug but there was no feedback from the hearing aids he used to always wear.  He stepped back and pointed at his head with a lopsided grin. “I hear great now!”

Michele’s eyes traveled hungrily up and down the length of him. Same wavy brown hair, twinkly eyes, mischievous grin, dimples and plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up as if 25 plus years had never passed.  The tears now spilled down her cheeks unabated and a sob of joy caught in her throat. With a look of understanding compassion on his face, Barry enfolded her into his arms and let her sob.  Michele could barely hear the familiar footsteps behind her on the floor and then her mom’s arms were about her.

“Al, just don’t sit there watching the game, get in here!” Ruth yelled.  At that, Michele pulled back and turned around to see her father stride towards them, his arms held out wide. She flew into them, crying even harder.

“There now,” soothed her mom in her wonderful accent. “Do you really want to spend your entire visit with us crying? You’re scaring Sonny!”

“Meooooww!” agreed the gorgeous Himalayan cat, entering the room. This was all just too much!

“I don’t understand!” was all Michele could manage, shaking uncontrollably.  Al, Ruth, Barry and even Sonny all stared at her in sympathy. “Am I dreaming or dead?”

“Neither!” chorused all (except Sonny) in unison. “This is a gift, sis.” Explained Barry gesturing to the family dinner table laden with a Thanksgiving turkey and all the fixings. “The Lord thought you’d enjoy one more day and meal with us all together again.”

Michele clutched at her heart. It was all too much to take in and yet she couldn’t deny it was what she had secretly longed for more often than she could say but there was still something missing.  A lot of “somethings”.  As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” cried Barry with a wink in his sister’s direction and bounded over to the door.  He opened it up to reveal Michele’s husband, Dave, and all their kids.

“Uncle Barry!” they all shrieked, not the least bit shocked or bewildered.  Barry hugged and pounded Dave on the back with glee and hugged each of Michele’s kids in turn as if he had known them all his life.  They in turn hugged his neck with equal glee and then everyone circled around the table and grabbed each other’s hands.

Marlayne, Barry + Kitten 1982

“Barry, would you lead us all in thanks to the Lord?” smiled Ruth, winking at Michele.

“I was hoping you’d ask!” Barry grinned. At that everyone bowed their heads as Michele’s beloved brother led them all in a prayer of thanksgiving for a reunited family that was separated only by the very thinnest veil of eternity.

THE END