This is a magnet on my fridge. My sister, Elise, bought it for me after the Coast to Coast walk in England four years ago. She walked for ten days, the full two hundred miles, with a group of her friends. I joined them for the last 100. Five days of walking across England. What an amazing experience! But, see, that’s the kind of thing my sister Elise does.
She’s planning on walking Hadrian’s Wall next year and I think I will join them for the whole time. We have been talking about that lately on SKYPE. Actually, we are talking about a whole lot of things lately. Recently, after participating in a sort of human resources type quiz, we discovered that we are alike. I was ecstatic and e-mailed her:
HURRAY!!!!! I knew there was a reason I’ve always loved you so madly and look for you in every woman I know and love … we’re alike in some ways … different dads, that’s all – which makes you richer in all sorts of ways … and more secure and self-actualized – and all those things I long for …
She has always been a role model for me. Strong, kind, fair and very, very loving, Elise is a dynamic, tender, sensitive and beautiful woman. Eight years older than me, she was away from home at boarding school in Salisbury (now Harare) much of my young growing up years. When she came home, though, she was always so kind to me. She seemed to have time, interest in who I was and what I was thinking about. When I was thirteen, she was the only member of my family with whom I felt safe enough to ask about God. I knew she would not laugh or tease me for the question. I remember her coming to kiss me goodnight and I asked her, "Do you think there’s a God?" She became quiet and gentle, very respectful of my question. I remember that feeling to this day. She replied softly, "I don’t know. I don’t think so. But there are other people who think there is a God." I remember feeling comforted, satisfied with her answer. In those days, I was thinking about God and religion quite a bit.
There – in the first photograph on the left, Elise is holding me in her arms when I was a little girl. And in the second picture, there I am, with my arm around her, during the Coast-to-Coast walk. She’s holding the directions. She lead the way.
About twelve years ago she visited me in Buffalo. I was just starting to emerge from a very dark patch in my life. I had survived an excruciating divorce where I had been completely wiped out, sucked dry financially and emotionally. There were times I thought I would never recover. She spent some time with me, coming to my work place, running in the park as I walked, and meeting my friends. She took some time to experience my new surroundings. When Elise left I was so sad. She sent me a letter that I have kept always close by. I read it from time to time over the years. Recently, I read it again:
Tammy – I cried the whole way from Buffalo to Baltimore – my head was turned to the window and that is how I sat (with no sound) … I stopped at the bookshop to get some paper to write to you – there were these beautiful cards about "Departure" – "friendship", "Hardships." But I just couldn’t take their schmaltz! although I thought and felt every word. Let me try to put everything into my own words …
Tammy, I love you and when I held you to say goodbye I felt that I was going to burst – but how can these feelings help you in your mind and in your life. A person doesn’t pass thro’ the day saying – "Oh – I’m OK, I feel loved by my sister!" No – the only thing that you must know is that I am a home where you can come to sleep, to dream, to play, to stay – at any time and under any circumstances. Now – that’s No. 1.
No. 2. – You must try to continue to focus on your PHD. You are there and yet if not it also doesn’t matter because your life and position are most respected and loved, but Tam – you have made such a place a niche for yourself in Buffalo and I am scared that you will never come home. Your feelings towards your life there frighten me because I want you in Israel. Why? I don’t know – but let me try to explain. USA is far from us, far in life, in culture, in money, in time – life is difficult and we are all such lonely items (atoms) that at least let us try to soften the blows of daily living for each other … if [things don’t] work out – come home Tammy – to work, to live, to cry, to fight, to be lonely, to struggle – because all these feelings are there, as in anywhere. The anguish and pain of living alone is where you are but – come and be alone near me – please I plead with you to think about this seriously.
I wish to write until I get this pain of separation out of me but it seems that it sits very heavy this time. I wonder why? What is it that feeds me this vulnerability? What can I do without getting into a codependent situation – that can help you relieve your feelings "from/in/with" the family – or is it just things that you have to work through?
I love you like a sister – I love you like a friend. My pain of separation is great – come home or rather – always say to yourself – "there is this other home." El
Each time after I read that letter, as now, I sit quietly. I am stunned at how she understood my situation within and without. I am shocked by the love expressed, concrete, real, true. This time, though, I sense stirrings within me – deep, emotional stirrings. I have been sensing them for some time now, since March 2005, in fact, when we met up again in London. I had not seen Elise for three years and I was walking from the tube station with my friends, Judy and Alan to meet up at her father’s home. It was late afternoon and I think it might have been overcast because I remember the day being a bit gray. Suddenly in the distance I saw Elise coming toward us. I pulled away from my friends and started to run. It was not a conscious decision. My body just took over and lurched forward, leaving my friends far behind. She was running too. We ran and ran towards each other and when we embraced I held onto her and cried and cried.
I realize that these emotional stirrings are not just the deep love I feel for my sister, but, much much more than that, I am finally allowing myself to feel totally and completely, safely and comfortably, loved by her.
I do not remember replying to her letter.
Indeed, I have felt withdrawn and withheld for such a long time.
It has been exhausting – self-protection – self-defense.
So, let me say this, now, years later:
Ellie Cutter, Thank you for sharing your pain, concern and love with me all these years. Thank you for always making me feel safe, respected for who I am, and deeply loved. I have always held that image of a home waiting for me if needed, and it has given me strength and courage to do all the things I have tried to do, including, as you so wisely understood, "working through my things." I remember when I heard that my father was dying (25 years ago). Everyone told me it was foolish to fly back to Africa all that way just to be with him when he died. You were the only one who told me I should go – and you gave me some money to do it! I have never forgotten each and every act of kindness you directed my way. I have always wanted to be like you, El, and in a way I hold onto all those pieces of you I cherish. Strong, fun-loving, humorous, intelligent, fair, self-reflective, accepting, physically loving, loyal sense of family. I think I tried to compete – little sisters do that I think as they try to live up to significant adults in their lives, so much bigger, wiser and stronger – but now I think I just want to share, relax and feel comforted by mutual sisterly loving. It isn’t easy for me to feel loved by anyone. I struggle to recognize those feelings that seem to come naturally for others around me. But your ways of showing love are so concrete and sincere, that they have slowly but surely penetrated my numbness! Forgive me my distance and withheld self. Perhaps, going forward I will let down my guard more and love you back as generously as you have always loved me. Tam.
There is so much more I could say about Elise. What a great teacher she is, loyal and devoted mother, friend, and exceptionally loving and kind daughter to our mother. Indeed, she has always seemed quite fearless to me, larger than life, and stronger than anyone I know. But, for me, the most important thing she has done is penetrate my wall of defenses and shown me that I am lovable. Just by being there, constant, solid, quiet, sincere, patient, gentle, accepting, giving. Moment by moment, day by day, year by year.
Last year on Tamarika: Sing Along; Tether Your Camel First; Is This A Cartoon?; New Yorker Cartoon
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