A Sister's Reflections

My sister was an only child. She was 17 when I was born, and she and Sam were married a little more than a year later. So she grew up as an only child and so did I. When I was born, the folks in Fresno were sure that I was Bebe's child and that our mother claimed me to help her cover up a most shameful mistake.

Though there were many times in my life when I wished it were true, it was not. And, in retrospect, I'm glad.

Mom and I had less-than-perfect relationship. I dreamed and fantasized that Bebe actually was my mom. But what we had was better. When I was very young, I didn't quite understand our relationship. I knew Bebe was my sister, but I didn't really know what that meant.

She was my main care giver for a while, and we formed a very strong bond from the beginning. That bond was never broken.

As a very young child, I remember sitting in the bathroom watching Bebe get ready for work. She was living with us while Sam was off helping to make the world safe for democracy. She worked at Lockheed - Rosie the Riveter. And she was so beautiful. I watched every day as she put on her makeup and rolled her hair into a 'rat' in the style of the early 1940s.

I remember her in Overland Park, Kansas -- in peasant skirts and off-the-shoulder gypsy blouses, playing the guitar, singing folk songs, and feeding everyone in sight. She was not only gorgeous, she was exciting. A Bohemian, long before there were beatniks or hippies... and I thought she was the most romantic and beautiful person in the universe, at least my universe.

When I had a serious problem at home, my first impulse was to call Bebe in Kansas or Ohio. As often as not - she would answer the phone by asking, "What's wrong?" without waiting to find out who was on the line. She knew. My calls must have produced a very special ring! There were times when she didn't wait for me to call. She called me, and without even bothering to say 'hello', asked immediately what was wrong with me or sometimes, what was wrong with mom.

I have a lifetime of splendid memories. But what meant as much to me as anything was the haven that she and Sam provided. The love and acceptance from my sister always seemed to be unconditional. Very few people offered me that - only Bebe and my grandpa. Bebe and Sam always opened their door to me, were always there.

In providing that, they also allowed me the privilege of being part of a real, normal (more or less) family. And even though I grew up as an 'only child', I acquired, through the time spent in the Springer household, a younger sister and brother. And a dad; my own died when I was 13 months old. The Springer family let me be truly a part of their home, their family, and their life whenever I was able to visit and spend time with them. In doing so, they provided me with a foundation that otherwise was lacking my life.

We laughed a lot and had good fun, so much fun. Bebe and Sam introduced me to my first real boyfriend - a young sailor - one summer in Kansas, never mind that I was much too young to be out alone with a sailor (or anyone else for that matter).

In Columbus, Bebe and I were both very active in theatre: Players Club, Gallery Players... and Bebe did summer stock at Playhouse on the Green. At cast parties, they shared their Scotch with me. It was only fun getting a 17 year old drunk until the time I had an accident all over Sam's shiny clean car! Bebe thought it was a hoot. Sam was somewhat less amused and made me clean it up - while suffering a humongous hangover!

Bebe was the only one who could make me laugh when I was in the middle of a really good sulk. Whenever I felt unreasonably sorry for myself, it only took her saying, "Poor baby! There, there, there " to start me climbing out of my ugly mood. She was truly my rock.

When I returned to Ohio 16 years ago, Bebe and Sam once again opened the door to me, took me into their home, and supported me in many ways through two years at Denison while I finished my degree. Denison provided tuition through scholarships. Bebe and Sam provided a rent-free room while I was in school and for several months after graduation - not to mention the occasional bags of emergency groceries and regular outings for special meals! They shared the experience with me. No parents could have been prouder or more excited when my Phi Beta Kappa nomination arrived. No sister and brother (or mother and father) could have taken more pride or genuine pleasure in my achievements.

The hardest and most important lesson I have ever had to learn was to trustingly accept the great gifts Bebe and Sam gave me - love, pride in me, the opportunity to start over after a divorce. They forced me to accept graciously all that they offered, and to trust the love that motivated the giving. In my 40s, I learned for the first time to trust not just their love, but that of all my family.

In recent years, I became aware that our early 'psychic' bond seemed to have been misplaced. But it returned full force shortly before Bebe died.

She hated the nursing home they moved her to after her last hospitalization and begged us to get her out of there. Gail was visiting and helped me when I left work in a panic at 10:00 on Monday morning and rushed home to research and locate a nursing facility where Bebe would be comfortable and would feel safe. I felt quite desperate to get Bebe moved.

Gail had to leave Monday afternoon, but first made phone calls to get information and set up appointments. Tuesday morning, March 13, I was up early and went to Newark to inspect two facilities.

Sue, evidently sharing my sense of urgency, was sent home from work by loving friends who sensed her despair. Together, we got Bebe moved, by Tuesday afternoon, to a lovely and loving place in Newark, Ohio.

Wednesday, a call to the nursing station disclosed that she had taken a significant turn for the worse. And I knew that finally, Bebe felt safe to let go. She had told Gail a week or so earlier that she was ready to die. I believe she fought with all her strength to hang on until we could - in her words - get her out of that place! When she was finally in comfortable surroundings with tender, caring professionals, she relaxed. I told Gail two days before Bebe's death that she was getting ready to leave us, that she felt safe enough to let go.

I humbly and sincerely thank God that we received the guidance and help we needed to find a wonderful place and move Bebe there 'just in the nick of time'. She finally was able to stop fighting, and we can all rest easier knowing her last few days were filled with love and caring.

Friday evening, I received the call from the hospice nurse, who told me that Bebe had died. And she shared with me my sister's last words: Bebe opened her eyes, smiled at the nurse, and said "I've just seen a glimpse of heaven."

If I had a year to write this, I could not find the words to tell you how much I will miss my sister. She was my hero and my role model for so much of my young life. And my best and most trusted friend, always.

Adieu, Adieu, ma jolie soeur,
Je t'aime beaucoup... et pour toujours...

Delivered at Bebe's Memorial Service
March 21, 2001 5:00 P.M.
Madison Christian Church
Groveport, Ohio