When I was four years old, one of the happiest events of my childhood occurred – my baby sister was born. I had a wonderful older sister and three great brothers, but for someone who loved babies and small children, this event brought a lot of joy into my life. Some of my earliest memories of her include peering into the baby buggy where she was sleeping and sitting on a blanket on the grass with her lying beside me.
Our earliest years were spent on a farm with cows, sheep, pigs, a dog, and probably some cats. Debbie grew to love animals, and I remember her as a two or three year-old feeding the black lamb she named Moo-moo with a baby bottle.
I remember Debbie with a smile on her face, running, jumping, and playing. She was spunky and determined. As a child she loved watching T.V. and loved to crank up the thermostat and sit right on top of the heat register. I recall getting frustrated with her once and hitting her (the reason for my frustration escapes me), but I was always happy that I had her for a sister.
She had a few tough times in her life, tougher than most people. Some of these she had a hard time getting over, and they cast a sad shadow on her life.
She was direct, and you always knew where she stood on issues. I envied the way she could get her point across but get people laughing at the same time.
She loved her cats and dogs, her husband, her son, music, her gardens, and books. She was an amazing artist, and I regret that I never asked her for one of her paintings or drawings. So often she wasn’t satisfied with her work and would end up painting over it.
I loved her strong coffee, seeing her latest creative projects, our trips to junk stores and garage sales, and our long phone conversations. I miss her dearly.