Monday Memories: April 15

Ever since I began blogging nearly 14 years ago, I’ve tried to keep my posts light and airy, and share the beauty of our little corner of the world as well as the beauty, interest and fun we have when we travel.

But, today is the anniversary of a very dark day for our family, and so it must be my Monday Memory this week.

Fifty five years ago this evening, my sister, Rose, was murdered by her estranged husband.  In modern day terminology, she was a ‘victim of domestic abuse’.  Amazing how that somehow makes it sound a little less evil.

I’ve shared several blog posts in the past about Rose, and I’ll link them here in case you’re interested in reading (or re-reading) them.

“Rose’s Ring“: https://thesedaysofmine.com/2013/10/24/roses-ring/

“The Darkness Of April“: https://thesedaysofmine.com/2011/04/15/the-darkness-of-april/

“Since 1969“: https://thesedaysofmine.com/2016/04/15/since-1969/

“50 Years“: https://thesedaysofmine.com/2019/04/15/50-years-2/

“Impossible To Imagine“: https://thesedaysofmine.com/2018/05/14/impossible-to-imagine/

But, today I just want to share a few of the things I remember most about my sister.

Since Rose was fifteen when I was born, I didn’t know her during her childhood years, and barely remember her as a teenager. But my mom used to tell me that Rose was the ‘littlest one in the house and the loudest’.  Rose loved her music, and she loved to sing.  In the car, the radio was always on, and she was singing every song. I grew up listening to rock and roll, and even today, there are certain songs that I hear that will remind me of her.

Rose loved her friends and her family. She and my sister, June, certainly spoiled me as you can imagine. But I can remember when I was very young, I would often ask her: “Whatcha doin’?”  And her smart alecky teenage self would reply: “Doin’ bluing, wanna buy a bottle?”

Rose at 17

I can also remember Mom, Rose and me attending an Elvis movie when I was still young enough to want to take my doll baby with me.  Rose was adamant that I could NOT take my doll. Looking back I guess, at that age, she was embarrassed to be seen with her little sister toting a doll baby. But I was old enough to remember Mom saying quietly that it wouldn’t hurt anything for me to take my doll to the movies with us.

Rose had her first child, a daughter, when I was just five, and her son was born when I was seven. Those of you who are moms know that the birth of your child just brings about a kind of love you’ve never known before.

Rose loved the beach, and many Sunday afternoons after church and lunch, Rose, her children and my mom and I could be found at the little beach in the neighborhood where she lived. And if she couldn’t make it to the beach, she’d be sunbathing in the back yard.  Or the front yard if that’s where the sun was better.

Rose and two of our uncles, taken during her last summer

Rose was meticulous about her appearance.  At the time of her death, she was a secretary at a nearby Army base.  (This was the era prior to pantyhose, and women working in offices didn’t wear slacks to work.)  Rose always wore the same shade of stockings and kept spare ones in her desk drawer. If she noticed a ‘run’ in one of her stockings, she’d immediately go to the ladies room and change.

Rose and me at a cousin’s wedding, 1962

This photo I believe to, most likely, be the last one taken of her. This was dated April 6, 1969 (9 days before her death) and was taken at our grandmother’s house. Rose is the blonde in the foreground.  Oh, and another memory of Rose: she was adventurous, deciding to become a blond in her late twenties. And those were brown leather slacks she was wearing.

I never worried about turning 30.  Rose was so young-at-heart, she dreaded her 30th birthday.  But she never saw her 31st.

How to end this post?  I think with this line from Don McLean’s song “Vincent” (released in 1971), that always brings Rose to mind:

“I could have told you…this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”