Sheila Sims Iding
The older you get the fewer people you have in your life who have always been there. From day one. From minute one. From the very beginning. Those people bring a kind of comfort that others cannot. Today I celebrate my oldest sister, Suzy’s, birthday. I celebrate all she brings to my life…every day of my life. But more than that I celebrate all the times she was there for me…from the beginning until now it seems…she’s always there.
My earliest memory of her “being there” was when we were little running around the yard or the house or the neighborhood or all three. We lived in the country and there weren’t many kids around. Your sisters were your friends and your playmates. And they were there. And she was there.
We were so far in the country I went to a country school. A one-room schoolhouse. Mrs. Droscha was our teacher and each row was a grade. The best part of a one-room schoolhouse is that your sisters are just a row or two away. I remember that one room school house and I remember Suzy being there.
Because my mom was sick we went to live with my grandparents every summer. It was hard to leave home for months at a time and be two hours from home. Nanny and grandpa were amazing to us but the first few nights were always lonesome. Home felt closer because Suzy was there.
She was there as we grew up to teach me how to really love a pet. I have never seen anyone with such an compassion for pets as Suzy. Her dogs…especially Taffy…always came first. She would miss the bus just to run back home and pet him one more time. Heck…she would miss the bus because she never got to the bus stop because she was late from petting the dog. There was a special bond for sure and she taught me a lot just by being there.
As much as she taught me about loving animals, she taught me as much about loving sports. She is, to date, the most amazing and best athlete I have ever known. We never played dolls or stuffed animals together. We played sports.
She was there in the front yard as we played football together. We would run pass patterns for hours. I was the Green Bay Packers and she was the Detroit Lions. We would run slants, button hooks and Hail, Mary passes. We would cut on an angle to the mailbox, or straight across the yard to the corner of the house. We were good. Or she was good. We could hike the ball and have a silent count to 7 and turn and the ball would be there. It was a pretend game for bored kids living in the country but it was fun and productive and she was there.
She was there in the driveway playing basketball for hours on end. Her shot was beautiful and her dribble was amazing…even on gravel. She taught me that sometimes there are people you can never beat at H-O-R-S-E and she taught me how to cut the fingers out of your gloves so you can shoot the ball even in the dead of winter. I never played basketball alone. I probably didn’t even like it that much. But I did cut the fingers out of my gloves and played another game of HORSE because she was there.
Mostly, growing up, she was there in the backyard. Our backyard was not really a backyard. It was a softball diamond pretending to be a backyard. We used it so much the base paths were worn. If they were worn you can only imagine how worn the pitcher’s mound was so was home plate. Home plate was a special place. It was right in front of the outside wall of our bedroom which served as a back stop. A wooden wall of a house that was stapled and nailed together because she pitched so hard. I used to catch her pitching and as she got better I had to pad my mitt just to catch her. Then when she got even better and I was afraid to catch her curve ball and that drop ball, I had extra padding and extra money. She used to pay me to catch her pitching because she threw so hard and her ball moved so much no one else would catch her. She was always way ahead of me in softball skills, knowledge and talent but our last few years we got to play travel softball together. I was a better player because she was there.
And when the tables were turned and I wanted to be a better pitcher…just like my big sister…she would catch my pitching for me. She worked nights so every day at lunch I would leave my job at the law office and pitch my whole lunch hour in an effort to be better. She would meet me at the park and she would catch my pitching. I am sure I would rather be at my desk back at work eating lunch but every day I went to that park to pitch…because she was there.
It seemed like she was always there. I never thought much about it. From playing sports, to watching games, collecting baseball cards, to singing in the choir…she was always there. I never remember too many fights…except riding in the car and who had to sit in the middle. She was a quiet leader as an athlete and as a big sister. She was a constant sure thing in my life that, because of my mom’s illness, most things were neither constant nor sure. But my days were more secure because she was there.
Until she wasn’t. When she went away to school at Michigan it was the first time I remember being caught off guard. I wasn’t prepared for the loneliness I would feel. I wasn’t prepared for basketball alone, pass patterns being over and an empty pitcher’s mound in our back yard. The first time she came home she gave me a notebook with college ruled paper and I fell in love with it. She also gave me a t-shirt that said “Rotvig III”. I think it was a t-shirt from her dorm. I just know I wore it all the time. Not even sure I really liked it but it was from Suzy and it made it feel like she was there.
It turns out college was the only time she wasn’t there. After Michigan and Michigan State…after college…she has always been there. She was there when we buried my mom. She was there when we buried nanny whom we lived with all those summers. She sat beside dad for those funerals and helped with the arrangements. Then when dad died she became the one we all turned to. She had her own pain and grief but we needed her now more than ever and she was there.
And she has never not been there. And even more importantly, she has been there for my boys. From babysitting for nights outs, to child care for hospital stays, to emergency rooms to churches…she has been there for them. From almost every soccer game, hockey game and track meet…she was there. Heck…she was there for many practices. From crisis they faced in school, sports or life. She was there. Not only was she there…many times she has been their first call for advice, for counsel, for comfort. She knows things about my sons that I do not know because she was there for them. Always there…and they knew it. And they still know it. Not everyone would understand this strong, emotional bond between nephew and auntie. I not only understand it, I still live it because she is there.
For 58 years she has been part of my every day...every minute. I am the only one who calls her Suzy...she really is "Sue". She is one of the few people who call me "Gus" (a nickname from my mom). She is my best friend, my source of comfort, my best therapy. And...how fortunate that my boys would say the same. Her mind is brilliant with more knowledge than anyone I have ever known. (top 10 student and CPA). And her heart is brilliant with more gentle kindness than I have ever known. And her soul is brilliant with a mixture of wisdom, compassion and faith. Today I celebrate her birthday…I celebrate her brilliance (on so many levels) and, mostly, I celebrate how blessed my life is because she is always there…still.
Happy, HaPpY Birthday, Suzy. You are so special. Thank you for being born. You are loved. Gussy