My Little Heart Was Shattered
My little heart was shattered in 1951 when I "lost" my little sister. That was the day she was taken to the Children's Hospital in Columbus,Ohio. I was told she went there to get better. I never saw her again...ever.
My brother-in-law drove Ma who was holding my little sister Millie Jo, my big sister, my little niece and myself to Columbus. My niece, Linda and I had to wait in the car with my brother-in-law. I protested heavily but was told Linda and I could not go inside because we might make the children in the hospital become sick. Of course, because I knew neither Linda nor I were sick and this was just a lot of bull but decided not to say anything.
Linda was six years younger than myself so we sat in the back seat quietly playing but my mind was not on the checker game as I knew something was wrong.
The time went slowly for me but I read my watch and after a half hour I asked why they were not coming out with Millie Jo. Robert said to hush because it took time to evaluate her condition.
Evaluate her condition !
What in the hell was there to evaluate I thought to myself. I knew for sure there was something wrong. I continued to play checkers with Linda but she also sensed something was wrong because she kept beating me and that did not happen very often. I had no heart to play the game and was not even paying attention to what I was doing. Another half hour passed and I started asking more and more questions.
Now Robert, was a very kind and patient man but I knew he was getting tired of my questions. Again he said to be patient and tried to cheer me up by saying funny jokes. It didn't work on me. I started squirming around and then I went into a full blown crying tantrum. I even got poor Linda crying and her dad finally raised his voice a little sterner and told me to quiet down and they would all be out to the car soon.
I quieted down somewhat and thought and thought why was this happening. There was definitely something wrong and I was not being told. I was very upset inside and cried some more.
My little sister was only three years younger than I but had never developed as a normal acting child. Millie Jo was her name and she never spoke to me vocally. We never got to run and play outside or share secrets and have little arguments or make up like most sisters.
She still wore diapers and had to be fed like an infant. She was unable to sit up straight without the aid of pillows propped behind her in the crib or highchair. She was unable to walk but once I got her to stand in the doorway next to me while she was holding onto the door jam. I yelled at Ma to come look at Millie Jo standing but when Ma came she swiftly lifted her into the crib and told me to never do that again. I did not understand this action but I obeyed. When I would get off the school bus and run into the house I would ask if I could climb into the crib and play dollies with her I was always allowed. I did not like dolls as I preferred teddy bears but big sister had given us both a rubber doll with molded hair for Christmas so that was what we played with in her crib. I once tried to show her how to play catch with a small rubber ball but she was unable to catch so I just rolled it to her. She could not roll it back but her sweet brown eyes did light up when I rolled the ball to her.
When Ma and big sis returned to the car they did not have Millie Jo with them. I screamed why and the answer was that she would be staying there until she got better. I sobbed almost all the way home but soon fell asleep in the back seat from sheer exhaustion. I continually asked about my little sister but the answers were always the same. Soon over the months and then into years I stopped asking about her. I knew she was not going to come back, Ma never told me a straight answer anyway. Soon my parents got a divorce. My father and I were both devastated over this bombshell that was dropped on our family. I never in my life ever heard a grown man cry but he did and that hurt me so much. Over the years I spent time at my aunts house during school months and summer at my Ma's apartment. I rarely saw my dad. I was told by my aunt that he had given up on life.
The years passed and I married, moved to California, and we had three children of our own. Often our three girls and I would take trips back to Ohio in the summer and stay at Ma's house. Ma had remarried a wonderful man who had been a school teacher. Our three girls loved him so much. He was a delightful man that spoiled my Ma rotten giving her anything she wanted. Once I was in the basement of their house looking through her basement food shelves. Ma was a terrible housekeeper so I was cleaning and organizing the basement for her. Her husband was a large man and never went down into the basement as the stairs were very dangerous and steep. I found bulging and leaking cans of spoiled foods and carried them up the steps stomping my feet and complaining about how they were going to get sick if they dared eat any of the contents in those nasty cans. Ma came running to me to be quiet about them so he would not know. She had me take the spoiled foods to where the garbage cans were kept in the alley behind the garage. I did carry all those boxes still griping how could anyone live like this with these nasty messes.
After 2 days I got the food area mess cleaned up and started going through the dressers in the basement. I found a disintegrated rubber doll and a letter from the children's hospital about Millie Jo. I was furious and opened the letter and read that she was still alive. I marched up the stairs as fast as I could complaining why didn't you tell me about Millie Jo. Ma hushed me up quickly and directed me outside. She said she had never told her husband and I protested why not. He was a very good and reasonable man and should know. Ma had no valid answer to give me. We did not talk about the letter again. I let it pass for about ten years and somehow had the feeling that my little sister was now dead. About another five years later I was in Tucson Arizona sitting in an ice cream parlor with my cousin who was seventeen years older than myself. I said to her I wished that Millie Jo was not dead and that I could have known her. My cousin said my sister was not dead and lived in Ohio. I was awestruck but did not call my Ma because I would get nowhere with her. Instead I called my aunt and she confirmed the fact that Millie Jo was alive but had never changed except for her height. My Aunt said the next time I came to Ohio we would go see Millie Jo. Different events happened and I never went back to Ohio to see my aunt.
Later on Ma came to live with me and I asked her about my little sister and she just said she was so sorry she never told me. I let the conversation stay at that and a year later Ma died peacefully in her sleep. My whole family all seemed to be dying off because most of my first cousins were teenagers or married when I was born so I pretty much grew up with second cousins who were in my generation. One day my Aunt who was in her late nineties called me saying Millie Jo had passed away. I was then an adult but I still cried my eyes out wondering why...why...why was she taken from me...
© Julia A Knaake