The Big "Ouch"

In loving memory of my “big” sister, Shirley Mae Helmkay ( Weber )
April 5, 1935 - April 22, 2010
　　
written just after Shirley passed on to the other side
　
One of my favourite movies from the past is E.T., The Extra-Terrestrial. E.T. was left behind from his space ship, and he entered the earthly life of the little, ten year-old boy, Elliot. With magic and imagination, E.T. taught Elliot that love and friendship are limitless.

Various and hilarious situations arose, and through all their experiences together, they formed a bond that would last forever. In the end, sadly, but rightly, E.T. had to leave and go to his real home in the sky. The parting was painful. Elliot had tears streaming down his face, and his last words to E.T. were “I love you so much.” E.T. had limited English vocabulary, but he knew one word really well. That word was “Ouch”.

When I was a little girl in the valley, and my big sister was coming home, we would all be really excited. She was gone a lot, and lived far away most of the time. Belgium was her home for 4 years; she left with Gord and wee baby Gary when I was an Auntie at 6, and they came back when I was ten. Chrissie was born in Belgium, and for a while after their return to Canada, both boys spoke French well. That day I was excited at school, and could hardly wait to get home to the farm. I could hear Shirley’s lovely, distinctive voice upstairs when I entered the kitchen, and two shy little boys stared curiously at me. Shirley asked me if I remembered her, and I thought, “My goodness, how could I ever have forgotten you?” She was, to use Dad’s favourite word, “elegant’ in so many ways.

Once when a bunch of us had been down at Grandma Short’s cottage on the Beaver River, just a few minutes south of the barn, both Shirley and I wanted to go on home to bed, because it had gotten late. It was pitch dark out, but we strode up the road together, and then found the house in utter darkness. Not a light was on. I didn’t know that Shirley did not like the dark. She didn’t want to go into the house. Surprised, I bravely said that I would go in first and check all the rooms, look under the beds, did so, and then announced that everything was fine. That seemed to make everything ok, and when Shirley later related that story to the rest of the gang, I was standing pretty tall. That was such a fun night, and I was so proud, because it had been just Shirley and me.

“Shirley” meant beautiful to me. She meant glamour and poise, and angel hair around Christmas lights. Shirley meant lots of candy canes at Xmas time, and an extra sparkle around every event. In these later years, Shirley meant an outstanding, dedicated love and utter devotion to her husband, Gord. Shirley, you did a fantastic job.

As I wrote poetry throughout the years, I was inspired when Shirley saved every piece, and filed them all under ‘Colleen’s Poetry”. I’ve never seen that file, but I know it must be tidy, and perfectly labelled. I wish I was half so organized. She seemed to get a real kick out of “Sexy Sixty” written for her on her 60^th birthday. Shirley mailed many letters, cards and gifts to me over the years, and was especially kind when I was raising children alone. Honey Bunny, was an exceptional and exotic looking bear sent to my daughter, Tanis, who cherished and loved it.

After Mom passed away, I sent Shirley some little mementos, jewelry and old-fashioned, pretty handkerchiefs, and she was so glad to receive them. She always made sure I knew that she appreciated those little acts of thoughtfulness. A cheery call from her on a Sunday afternoon brightened up my whole day.

All the memories of course are too much to write down here, but they live on and on and will never be forgotten. Listening to the lonely whistle of the trains going through Trenton was a sober moment.  Laughing because we each bought the very same outfit from Sears catalogue, even though we were miles apart, will always make me smile. I know that I was genuinely loved.  Right now there are many tears, Shirley, but we know that you have gone on to your real Home this time.

Shirley, this is my goodbye to you, not poetry this time, just simple words from my heart. “ I love you so much”. I can hear your cheery laugh, and “By Golly” I’ve gotta say, that Shirley, this one, is One Great Big “Ouch.”

I will miss you until we see each other again in that Heavenly Light!

Love from your little sister,

Colleen