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The Incident on the Ski Slope

 

 

The Sad Girl met a lovely young woman the other Saturday while raking leaves.

She asked the Sad Girl if she was Cinderella before or after the Pumpkin Coach.

They drifted into a nice conversation that ended with the poor lovely young woman in tears.

Tears for the Sad Girl that she’s lived Cinderella’s story.

The Sad Girl told her not to cry because, as she saw, the Sad Girl was indeed happy.

All of us have a Story. Some of our stories are just more twisted than others.

So, new Friend Quantel- this is for you.

 

 

It is at this point that the Sad Girl met the Sad Boy as told in these blog posts-

June 2014 Happy 25th Anniversary Sad Boy https://blueeyedblonds.com/2014/06/

And just keep reading in order.

 

 

 

Winter had descended. And trouble was brewing in the months before the Sad Boy and the Sad Girl wed.
The Sad Girl was oblivious to the seeds of discord being sown among the family players. At the best of times, the Sad Girl had a hard time adding one plus one so it equaled two. In pre-wedding joy, she could not make a whole picture out of the seemingly random circumstances that were occurring.

Some scenes she witnessed, some she only heard about. The Sad Girl came from a good loving family; any disruptions came from outside her family unit. That’s what she was told for her entire life; that’s what she believed.

When the Sad Boy first arrived in America, Brother-in-Law II had offered him employment at his restaurant in South Jersey.

The Sad Boy declined. He was a builder not a cook.

Favorite Brother-in-Law helped the Sad Boy find employment as a mason. He also gave the Sad Boy advice and insight into establishing a business in America. Favorite Brother-in-Law and the Sad Boy became friends. Brother-in-Law II may have felt rebuffed. Although grateful for his offered help, the Sad Girl did not even think that he and Sister II would be hurt because their help wasn’t taken.

There is bad blood that runs through the relationship between the families of the Sad Boy and Brother-in-Law II. Now the Sad Girl understands it but at the time, she did not grasp that there was an undercurrent between the Sad Boy and Brother-in-Law II. The Sad Girl doesn’t know if even now Sister II is aware of it; that is why both the Sad Boy and Brother-in-Law II give each other “the eye.”

Regardless, they saw each other often. Sister II would come up north for a visit, or the Sad Boy and Girl would drive down to enjoy a delicious dinner that Sister II cooked. The Sad Boy and Brother-in-Law II were always pleasant to each other.

An incident happened while we were enjoying a day of skiing- The Sad Girl and Boy, Sister II and Brother-in-Law II, and Blarney Boy.

The Sad Boy, a warm weather person, was new to skiing. At some point on the slope, he had commented to Blarney Boy, an expert skier, that Brother-in-Law II was a showoff and a jerk. He also had another story that he imparted to Blarney Boy in broken English.

During one of our visits to Sister II and Brother-in-Law II in the pizzeria, in Italian, Brother-in-Law II asked the Sad Boy to leave the Sad Girl home and come with him to Atlantic City. They could have fun at the casinos and so on. He told the Sad Boy he always went with mutual Italian friends when Sister II was up north visiting her family overnight.

The Sad Boy told him if he wanted to do things of that nature, he would have stayed in Naples, Italy.

The stone was thrown. Its effects would ripple.

The Sad Girl has no doubt that Brother-in-Law II propositioned the Sad Boy, but to what end? Was he baiting the Sad Boy, trying to set him up and then reveal the Sad Boy as a man not suited for marriage?

At some point in the coming months, this story got related to Sister II. The Sad Girl did not tell her this story. The Sad Boy did not tell her this story. The Sad Girl is still unclear as to when she heard this story, certainly not on the ski slopes that fateful day. She does not know who repeated this story to Sister II and what they were hoping to achieve. The Sad Boy states he hadn’t told the episode to anyone other than Blarney Boy relating it while they were on the ski slope.

And the winter turned to spring with the Wedding of the Sad Boy and the Sad Girl only a few short weeks away.

Goldilocks

In Fond Memory of The Sister Who Shall Not Be Named

Again the Sad Girl woke up. Wide awake with the scream dying in her throat.

“Who is my father?” she screamed to the Woman with the Rock in Her Shoe for the countless time.

But like the living, the dead don’t ever answer even in the convoluted world of night terrors.

The Sad Boy draped his arm around her and pulled her close in his sleep. He was used to her nightmares. He knew how to save her from the demons that haunted her sleep.

Knowing she was safe, even from the mother she fought in her nightmares, the Sad Girl fell back to sleep.

 

 

 

Now I know why I dreamed of my mother.

It seems the Sister Who Shall Not be Named has prematurely exited this world.

Facebook, once again, has been the herald of family death and tragedy.

It pained me as a writer, a reader, your half-sister and worthy nemesis that no one captured the essence that was you.  Was I the only one who saw the glory that made you?

I cannot let that stand as your only tribute on the never ending pages of the internet.

You loved flowers.  So I will give you a bouquet of words that will never grow old or wither and die .

No one wrote about your vivacious personality. Whether it was in happiness or any other great emotion, your passionate nature brought life and color to those around you. You would not be ignored, regardless of the circumstance.

No one remarked on your beautiful face. Or how your large brown eyes, be they stormy or gentle, expressed the complexity of your soul.

Nor did anyone tell about your love of art in all its forms. Ceramics or Christmas crafts, doing art was a part of who you were.

I wondered sometimes if you still quoted cartoons like we did as teenagers. Bugs Bunny or Fred Flintstone always had a quip for every situation. And now you have exited stage left before your part played out.

Your edict, passed to me third hand, not to call or text or write or in anyway communicate with you, was not surprising.

It didn’t matter. Your flare for the dramatic was consistent- making a surprise entry or a strong memorable exit was your forte. It was a shame that I was the only who noticed. You, dear sister, were one of the unsung greats.

And like every great thespian, by all accounts, you had a drama filled and tearful last breath.

Well done, and I mean this with all my heart. You did not go “peaceful into the night” but fought death with everything you had.

Death has only won a battle. It will never win the war.

And with more tears than I care to shed, I will look forward to a drama free reunion in Heaven.

May you rest in the Peace of the Lord.

 

The Sister Who Shall Not Be Named

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Goldilocks