She finally spoke up. “I’m so happy you came down to see me. I was secretly hoping you would, and somehow knew that it would be therapeutic to be with you for a bit. I think somehow my brain and body was waiting to be able to let go and start climbing out of this hole.”
“I so want you to be ok like your old self and living again,” I confided.
“I will be,” she confided, and I knew I could believe her.
She did climb back on the horse. She started doing some volunteer work to get out of the house. The following Fall she started teaching evening adult education classes at a local college. She told me that it was time to get some of the old folks away from the “tube” and interested in French literature. That’s how she met Alan. A retired widower looking to expand his mind, or maybe to pick up widowed school teachers, who knows. In any event, they started dating and traveling together. A few years later they decided to marry and, get this, went to Paris for their honeymoon. I got a post card from her showing a picture of the Sorbonne and a note on the back, “I thought you’d like to see the place. You know how some of its graduates had a great influence on my life”, ending with a little smiley face. I laughed out loud, but Sara didn’t understand. “Inside joke,” I grinned.
All was well until a couple of years ago when she found out she had cancer. She refused to slow down, but it finally took her a couple of weeks ago. That’s what brings me to the present. I was thinking about her memorial service last week where I delivered one of the eulogies. I spoke about what a kind and understanding sister she was and how we shared such a close bond for so many years. How she had been a protector and mentor and how we had tried to support each other in so many ways throughout our lives. How she had been there for me when I needed understanding and encouragement and how I hoped I was able to do the same for her.
All of this was true. However, I’m sure those listening to it probably didn’t hear the hidden message and know the extent of our caring and support. I’m sure most would have been shocked, appalled, and disgusted if they knew the extent of our relationship, but I think that’s really more their problem than the facts as Linda and I knew them. They would have probably called us sinners of the worst type, but what is sin anyway? I once read where someone said that there is only one true sin, and that is defined as, “willfully and maliciously causing physical or emotional pain of another, or depriving them of what is rightfully theirs.” He went on to say that all of those individual things we call sins are more or less a derivative of the basic definition. By that definition, how had we sinned? We never caused each other or anyone else any pain or deprived them of anything. If anything, we were loving and supportive of each other and carried that to others in our lives. That sounds more like the kind of behavior we look to from saints. I certainly would never be as arrogant or presumptuous as to say that Linda was a saint. She wasn’t that by any stretch. But, she was truly a good person, and I think that without her we both would have struggled more at some pretty low points in our lives. We simply perhaps allowed our care and support to include shared sexual pleasure and mutual satisfaction.
I’m sure most people, perhaps including you gentile reader, would say that what we did was the worst sort of violation of the strictest taboo. However, I’d like to think that if it is really a taboo, it’s perhaps a softer, gentler, more tender taboo….a velvet taboo if you will. Whatever anyone thinks, I suddenly felt the need to share with someone how I felt about my big sister who truly helped me make it through the rocky roads in my life. I know it may seem like a violation of her “rule number 1”, but those she worried most about learning of our relationship, namely mom and dad, are gone. I suppose her kids, my wife and kids, and her new husband would have a hard time accepting it, but I don’t think they will ever know. After all, I did change all the names and places in my story so it would be pretty hard to prove anything. Besides, now that I’ve let you in on our little secret, I’m going to impose rule number 1 on you too. You must promise to never, ever tell anyone.