I read a mystery last week. It’s the first mystery I’ve read in a year. The last? I read it to my sister as she was dying. One year later and I still miss her.
I don’t know why I stopped reading for pleasure. Reading was a pleasure that I’ve always known in life, my sister gave that to me. She was 15 when I was born and used to read to me before I could read for myself. And over the years, we’ve enjoyed many of the same genres. Sharing books, discussing plots, characters and choices that were made.
Since she died, everything has been non-fiction. Some of it work related, some of it blog related. But none of it just for the delight of reading. Reading for the pure pleasure of meeting new characters, in new places was a shared love that we had. And it stopped for me when I closed the cover on the last mystery that we shared together.
When she was in the hospital last year, on the breathing tube, I decided to read to her. I found two new books at her house, authors that we both enjoyed. She would have read these books and then passed them on to me to read. I took one of the books to the hospital and read it to her each day. Each night I would read a chapter or two or three from the book. The nurses said that she could hear, even though she was kept sedated. So I kept reading. I hope it comforted her. I know it comforted me.
Each night when I got there, her husband and sons would greet me, update me on her status and then leave. They knew how important reading was to her. Her house is filled with bookcases stacked with books. And books were on the floor next to her chair. It’s where I found these books and why I knew she hadn’t read them yet–it was her waiting to be read pile. Each night, her husband thanked me for reading to her. I knew it comforted him as well.
When I finished the book, I said my final good-bye. After I left, they removed her breathing tube.
The other new book sat in my car. It stayed there for almost a year. I’m not sure why I didn’t bring it in the house. But even when I finally brought it in the house, all I did was put it on a shelf. I couldn’t bring myself to read it. Not yet. I pushed it aside, moved it to other shelves, but I didn’t read it. Once, I did open the cover and read the first page and then I put it aside again.
But last week, while on a stay-cation, I pulled out the book and I read it in one sitting from the first page in the morning until the last page in the evening. It felt good to read it, I missed the characters from the series. In the time between when I picked up the book at her house and when I finally read it, the author had already published another book in the same series. And I realized that it’s ok to enjoy reading, that she was still with me when I read.
I don’t suppose time really makes it any easier, despite what other people say. It must have been a massive comfort to her hearing you read as you accompanied her on the last leg of her life journey. Leaving someone at that final doorway and watching them go through it alone is the hardest thing. I have done it twice with very elderly relatives but I can’t imagine what it must be like when it is your sister. Not surprised it took you a year to be able to read the other book.
Thanks, Gilly.
It’s so nice that you both could share in your love for books. I’m sure she loved hearing you read to her.
I really hoped that she did.
Jennifer, I really understand this one. My older sister passed away a year ago this month and she and I related the same way. She was a writer, too, and the only person I trusted to read and advise me on my “raw material.” It’s so hard, but I think you’ve hit on a key to helping ourselves move on and keep them alive–continue to enjoy the things that we shared. Hugs to you, my friend.
Thank you, Lee. I didn’t realize that your older sister passed away around the same time. Yes, pushing away what we enjoyed together wasn’t working, I’m glad I stopped pushing and started embracing. It does make me feel closer to my sister. Hugs to you as well.
Hi Jennifer. I can’t imagine what you have gone through but I can’t help but believe that your reading to her in the hospital was such a blessing to you both. And then by NOT reading for the year it was a wonderful way to mourn her loss in your life. May every book you read from now forward be a tribute to you both. ~Kathy
I understand. I get this. After a deep, deep loss, we push away things that brought us joy. And we resist, for whatever reason. And then when we no longer resist, and we pick up that book or the paint brush or the clay, we wonder why did we resist for so long. No matter. You are home. <3
I think she heard and loved every word. Love you Auntie.
Thank you Dawn. Love you, too!
What a poignant piece about losing your sister, Jennifer. I lost one of my sisters 4 years ago and a light was extinguished from our family that can never be replaced. I love how you spent those final days with her and reading of your mutual love of books. This is something the women in my immediate family has also shared and I haven’t read a lot of fiction since I lost my mother and my sister. I must rekindle this common interest with my remaining sister and follow your example by diving into a mystery.
It really helped me to start reading again. And picking a book that my sister would have read and we would have shared really helped. I’m a reader again. And it honors my sister who taught me how to be a reader all those long years ago.
Re-visting a lost story line. So poignant.
What a tough, tough time xx I feel for you so much.
A little like that I spent a lot of my friend’s last days with her (not my sister-this I cannot imagine x). All of my experience of loving rugby was with this girl and to this day I find it very different to watch now. I cannot get past the grief fully.
We had huge laughs together especially as she was English and I Irish- these games were our favourites to watch together.
I love your post x I love that it has come full circle.
Thanks, Orla. My life would never have been right if I stopped reading mysteries. It was a gift that she originally gave me, the love of reading, and I’d be denying that gift if I stopped.
I’m sorry for your loss, but what a lovely hobby that you could share while you were together. It must have been a comfort to your sister to hear you read to her in the hospital, and if reading was something that she was passionate about, I’m sure she’d be happy to know that you are able to start finding joy in books again.
Thanks, Kirsty. I’m glad you stopped by. I think she would be (is) happy too.