Widow's Voice

Riding Off into the Sunset

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with Manette, c. mid-1960s

I’m typically highly-sensitive to dates of significance pertaining to family members. I’d always served as the reminder-of-dates, a birthdate savant, advising everyone of someone’s upcoming Big Day. These days, however, I realize that it isn’t birthdates that I’m now good at recalling, but the dates-of-loss.

I didn’t realize until this past week that although six years apart, the dates of the passing of my only sister, Manette, and my mother, are only separated by less than ten days, with my sister’s passing anniversary occurring tomorrow, March 2nd. My sister loved birthday and birth-week celebrations and we enjoyed spending them together whenever possible. She strived so hard to always find the perfect gift as well.

I’d written in a recent posts that having lost several major family members in rapid succession it is often difficult to not possess a heavy spirit especially during times of significance. As I write this, a “forgotten” memory of a birthday celebration in my sister’s beautiful home comes to mind so unexpected and clear. Why that one? It was a sunny winter day spent in an atrium surrounded by Rich, my parents and my sister, all of whom have since passed. It is a happy memory.

A recent post on the Soaring Spirits Facebook Page quoted, “Somedays I feel like I’m conquering the world in your honor; and some days I feel as though I’m lost in the heartache of your absence.” Attribution Unknown. One commenter stated that someday’s it is a little bit of both, which is true.

In front of her fountain in her beloved backyard

Although that post quote was meant for those mourning the loss of a spouse, or life partner, it can pertain to anyone that held a very special place in one’s life.

I happened upon my sister’s online obituary the other day and read some of the tributes left there. They were really touching and a testament to her as a loyal, caring and fun-loving friend, family member and colleague. I try to emulate that whenever possible.

Back in 1973, my family moved to Boulder, CO, when my dad received a sabbatical to study for one academic year at the University of Colorado. For her entire life, my 12 year-old sister’s deepest wish was for a horse. Two days after moving to Boulder and renting a house that conveniently featured a horse stable and pasture, my sister came home from school leading a beautiful Arabian Quarter horse mix, just like someone would bring home a puppy. 

She became so devoted to this foster horse named Muna, appropriately translating to “wishes” in Arabic, that her grades suffered. Warned that she’d lose her horse privileges if they didn’t improve, she was mortified when her next report card showed no improvement. Together, with the help of a horse-loving friend, they altered her grades with a pen! Remember, this was the early 70s before the internet. My parents never knew of this until she confessed decades later. 

My sister and that horse grew very close and it was a sad day when they had to part ways when my family had to return to New Jersey, trading our view of the Rocky Mountain foothills for the skyline of New York City.  

A testament to Creative Visualization if there ever was one, I chronicled this entire story for a contribution to a horse-themed anthology published by the Revell-Baker group in her honor. 

When, at age 30, I decided the corporate NYC lifestyle was not for me, I returned to my hometown of Hackensack and moved in with my sister and her son, Zac. I enjoyed that time and look back with great affection to those days. Zac passed at age 39 in 2022 so again, those memories can fluctuate between happiness and sorrow and regret that they are not here to enjoy this beautiful place in which I now find myself. 

Manette and Zac, most likely at the Jersey Shore or up on the North Shore of MA.

So, I write about them. That is how I cope with these losses. Unfortunately, I seem to have a lot to write about these days. With a memoir completed and in submission, my hope is to share my story in a way that is relatable and authentic and also honors the memories of those who graced my life and continue to live on in spirit after riding off into the sunset.

Happy March First, and Happy Rabbit, Rabbit Day.

About Lisa Begin-Kruysman

Originally from New Jersey, artist/writer/blogger Lisa Begin-Kruysman now calls Southeast Georgia and Florida home. It was during a road trip in October 2021, when she and her husband Rich, who served militarily as a Navy Corpsman, were returning south after celebrating their 25th Wedding Anniversary, that he became ill, passing just three weeks later. The author of several books, including Dog's Best Friend (McFarland & Co. 2014) mostly inspired by the special human-canine bond, Lisa serves on the Board of Directors for the Dog Writers Association of America and now returns to blogging posting for Widow's Voice with the intention of sharing her personal experience of widowhood with those who know the struggles first-hand and to perhaps help those who struggle to understand the daily challenges facing those who've lost a spouse or significant other. She is currently writing a memoir about her Widowed Experience and the comfort she has derived from her relationship with dogs.