Sheryl Jo

When I made an entrance into this world (through no help on my part) my sister had already been pioneering a path for me for a year and a half. She was the first-born of my young parents, and so with Sheryl, there was a lot of “what do we do now?” questions. By the time I came along, it was more, “we’ve done this before.” 

Of the four children born to my parents (2 sisters after me), I don’t know if Sheryl was the prettiest (I don’t want to offend the others), but she certainly had the best smile. She was good with people, and easy to make friends with. She cared too much (in my opinion) with being popular, betraying, I think, an insecurity that didn’t really need to be there. 

Mom and Dad had all of us involved in music (a great gift to us, by the way). Sheryl and I sang duets occasionally in church. Our Sunday night services always made lots of time for special music, especially from the younger ones. I remember singing with her “A soldier in the army of the King of kings am I; He called me to His colors and for Him I’d live or die.” I don’t feel much like a soldier these days, nor do we tend to sing those kinds of songs. But Sheryl’s soldiering days are over. I don’t believe her mind remembers where she’s been, or where she’s going. 

Sheryl will turn 65 this week, on July 27. She won’t know it. At this “young” age, she has no idea how old she is. She’s got Alzheimer’s. She no longer walks, or talks. She does not feed herself. As I fed her lunch this past week, she did not respond to questions like, “do you want more?” or “would you like some pie?” She might open her mouth if you held the fork close, or just turn her face away. She can’t seem to focus on a picture on one’s mobile phone, but just looks off in the distance at nothing in particular. It’s as if she’s not there, though her body is. 

“To be absent from the body” is “to be present with the Lord,” Paul says in 2 Corinthians 5:8. I wonder if it’s possible that Sheryl, in a sense, is already with Jesus. I don’t know. I do know that, though Sheryl’s diseased brain may not be able to hold thoughts of God, God holds on to her, this child of His and sister of mine. 

My visit with Sheryl was shorter than the drive. There was no conversation. Just me saying dumb things that came to mind, trying to jog a memory not there. But as I left, I hugged her, and received the best smile. A really nice gift.