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Memories will have to be enough
By Bob Robinson

She had the face of an angel.

I was this pencil thin nerd ‘stick’ who would go to the beach wearing a button-down shirt and shorts with black shoes and white socks. My sister Melinda had boys clamoring around her for as long as I can remember.

Being Air Force brats we never stayed in one place long enough to have many friends, so we made the best of it and spent much of our time playing together. She loved dolls, so sometimes we played dolls. I loved making things, like building a marble track from old-fashioned clothes hanger protectors. She helped me build tracks that would circle my bedroom two or three times before a marble completed its journey.

I remember being angry with her when two men in Air Force uniforms came to pick us up from school to take us home. I knew why, even though they wouldn’t tell us – something had happened to our dad – she didn’t. Thought it was a great adventure. I was 13 (and soon to become angry with the world); she was 9.

Mom told us dad had died trying to land a crippled B-47. Suddenly I was the man of the house; something clicked in my head, I guess. Mom tried, but I was not buying it. When I had to be ‘big brother’ I resented it, whereas before I probably would have been proud. I remember being a real jerk once… Melinda wanted to see Elvis in “Jailhouse Rock.” I was forced to take her; I was not nice about it.

Bless her heart; Melinda remembered me taking her but not that I was a jerk. She remembered other times when I guess I wasn’t a jerk, either (at least not according to her).

We both remembered trips to DeSoto, MO, to see our maternal grandparents, our Grandma and Grandpa Coyle. They lived on a tiny farm just outside a village so small if you blinked you missed it. We remembered the good times… playing in the creek, red and black raspberry bushes when the fruit was perfect to pick and pop into our mouths, the hundreds of multi-colored butterflies fluttering along the path to the creek, chopping down our Christmas tree and bringing it to the house through the snow on a sled…

And we remembered the summer storms. When we were little we slept in the attic. We had this huge, heavy blanket to keep us warm and we’d lie awake listening to millions of rain “pellets” slamming against a tin roof. We’d both grin… that’s when I’d often wonder how I was so lucky to be a big brother to an angel. A beautiful angel. In my young mind I sometimes thought maybe she was God’s apology for creating a gangly nerd… she truly had the face of an angel.

My kid sis was an incredibly beautiful person. Both inside and out. I never heard a cross word from her about anyone. She was kind, gentle and loved life. She will be missed by all those who knew her.

My baby sister, Kim, has memories of her big sis… 10 years older than her. Wonderful memories. And mom has her memories. Good memories. Mom is 91 and should never have had to experience the loss of her oldest daughter…

Our memories will have to be enough… Mel gave up her long fight against the brutality of cancer, Nov. 21. She was 66. See her full Memorial here.



 
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