A thousand words are worth a picture

September 1, 2017 • Posted in blindness, memoir writing, Mondays with Mike, travel, writing by

That’s Bobbie at the center of this Finke family photo, taken in late November, 1961. I’m the two-year-old sitting to her left.

My sister Bobbie died a month ago today. Mike wrote a tribute to her after we got home from her memorial service a few weeks ago. Today I’m sharing an excerpt from an essay we published in my newsletter –it’s about how writing helps me remember her.

My oldest sister Bobbie got married and moved away months after my first birthday. Bobbie was 20 years older than me, and when I was growing up, our age gap prompted people to ask whether she really felt like a sister to me. My answer was always the same. Well, yes – she’s been my sister my whole life!

During the ten-day lag between her death and her memorial service, the Finke nation (I am the youngest of seven and have oodles of nieces and nephews) dug through boxes of old photos to post pictures of Bobbie on Facebook. Friends and family members left comments about memories those photos evoked. You can well imagine that I would like to be able to see those photographs, too, but rest assured that my own reminiscences of Bobbie are not diminished by my inability to see them.

I owe that to writing.

When I think about Bobbie now, the episodes I’ve written about her are by far the most clear and vivid in my mind. Perhaps it’s the result of writing and rewriting, getting just the right verb, working and reworking each piece until it’s as true as I can make it. Maybe the saying is backwards.

Maybe a thousand words are worth a picture.

In writing my memoir Long Time No See, I revisited a short stay at Bobbie’s house while recovering from eye surgeries in 1985. That was a difficult exercise. But because I took the trouble to get it as right as I could, I can still feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, breathe in the mix of dirt and foliage from her garden, savor the taste of those breakfasts she made me every morning, hear the laughter and voices of my other sisters gathering with us there, and feel my little niece Jennifer’s hand guiding me so, so carefully to the bathroom, placing my hand on the toilet roll when we got there so I’d know where I was.

Writing about that time again now reminds me of how courageous my oldest sister was. I was seven years old when diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. Bobbie was diagnosed a year after that, when she was 28. Years would go by before complications set in, and when I was losing my eyesight, Bobbie was valiant enough to take care of me in her home. That, even though it meant facing what could possibly be her future.

As the saying goes, she didn’t blink.

Mike and Seeing Eye dog Whitney flew with me and my sister Bev to the memorial service in South Carolina a few weeks ago. Two members of the Finke nation flew in from Brooklyn. Others flew in from Orlando, and more drove in from Louisville, from Indianapolis, even as far away as Minneapolis. We all loved Bobbie, and for me, writing helps to hold Bobbie especially close.

janet On September 1, 2017 at 9:05 am

Thank you Beth for this and all you write about.

Beth On September 1, 2017 at 9:54 am

Thank you, Janet, for reading these things I write about.

Sheila A. Donovan On September 1, 2017 at 9:32 am

Bobbie will live on in your memory, and you have a strong memory, forever. I’m glad that you had time on earth with her. My sympathies.

Beth On September 1, 2017 at 10:14 am

Thank you for understanding, Sheila. You know how it feels to lose a big sister….

Bev On September 1, 2017 at 11:21 am

‘A thousand words are worth a picture’……..love it!

Beth On September 1, 2017 at 1:56 pm

Mike came up with that line — he’s good!

Cam On September 1, 2017 at 11:44 am

Beth, I am so sorry for your loss. This is a beautiful way to remember her and share her with us. Thank you.

Beth On September 1, 2017 at 1:57 pm

You’re welcome, Cam. Thanks for reading.

Jennifer Ulen On September 1, 2017 at 12:08 pm

Love this post, not just because I am mentioned, but of how poetic it is. Beautiful tribute! Aunt Bobbie was one of a kind!

Beth On September 1, 2017 at 1:59 pm

She sure was.
And so are you, Jennifer. Along with that little thrhee-year-old of your own. Can’t you just picture Toots guiding her Aunt Betha to the bathroom the way you did all those years ago….?

Kathy Moyer On September 1, 2017 at 1:07 pm

Dear Beth,
I’m sorry to hear about your sister’s death. You have wonderful sisters, I’ve met three and you
have wonderful memories of them and your parents. We have been very fortunate to have had such good parents and generous siblings. I’m the youngest of eight.
Kathy

Beth On September 1, 2017 at 2:02 pm

You are so right, Kathy. I do feel fortunate to have such a great family and generous siblings.

Diana On September 1, 2017 at 2:09 pm

You are so right about the healing qualites of writing. Something you have taught me. Thank you Beth

Beth On September 1, 2017 at 2:28 pm

It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it? What is also amazing is all we learn from one another by attending these memoir-writing classes and sharing stories. So glad you’re one of the magnificent writers in my classes, Diana.

Carol Abrioux On September 1, 2017 at 4:05 pm

Thanks, Beth. This was a very touching essay and I was so happy that the large number of years between you did not stop a close, loving relationship.

Anu Agrawal On September 1, 2017 at 4:07 pm

Beth

I was so touched by your post. Your sister always will always live in your thoughts. I can see you two were very close.

Anu

Beth On September 1, 2017 at 6:51 pm

We became particularly close once I was in my late teens. Perhaps 18 to 38 isn’t that big a stretch?

Doug Finke On September 1, 2017 at 5:30 pm

Beautiful said, Beth. Thanks for doing that.

Beth On September 1, 2017 at 6:37 pm

I often mentioned to her that it’d be hard to be the oldest. She did it with grace.

Jo Dee Walsh On September 1, 2017 at 6:11 pm

Peace to you and your nation

Beth On September 1, 2017 at 6:33 pm

Oh, that’s sweet. Thank you.

Mary Rayis On September 2, 2017 at 1:44 pm

What a poignant piece on writing, memory, and the ties that bind. I’m so very sorry for the loss of your beloved sister, Beth. Thank you for sharing what she meant to you.

Beth On September 2, 2017 at 5:05 pm

Thank you for reading, Mary. And, especially, for understanding.

Annelore On September 5, 2017 at 12:38 pm

Close relationships with siblings are a very special treasure, a feeling that will never leave your heart or your memory. Age difference is invisible to love. My brother was 19 years younger than me and I shall always miss him. We are truly blessed.
thank you for sharing the love for your sister Bobby.

Gretchen Livingston On September 8, 2017 at 11:36 am

Belatedly, I am so sorry. I love the family stories you share–thanks for sharing the memories.

Beth On September 8, 2017 at 3:07 pm

Thank you, Gretchen. And there will be more stories, don’t you worry.

Tara Waysok On September 9, 2017 at 12:40 am

I wish I could channel the right words to say how sorry I am for your loss. You and your family are in our thoughts.

And thank you for your kind words as well. Writing about it does help. I planned on writing about my latest hair modeling adventures but the dog post just poured out.

Beth On September 9, 2017 at 4:20 pm

Isn’t it amazing when words just “pour out”? It is at times like those that I feel writing is indeed an art.

Mondays with Mike: Good grief • Beth Finke On December 18, 2017 at 1:41 pm

[…] this as I’ve been on the periphery of too many people dealing with loss over the past few months. Beth’s sister Bobbie died a couple months ago—Bobbie and her husband Harry hosted our wedding in their backyard. Then […]

Leave a Response