Cookie

I had fears of these ramblings of mine becoming an obituary page. I got over that very quickly when I realised with each death in my family I never eulogised my sister Cookie. We didn’t have a complicated relationship. It was loving and incredible. There were years of distance. I sometimes fear she won’t be remembered properly. Her teenage years were challenging in my family. I was in primary school at the time. So my lens was not as clear as it is now. I remember things and have been putting the pieces together. Like any family you see the cracks and the real villains after becoming an adult. You dissect everything and heave a sigh of relief when truths appear. These cracks become huge wedges and you see things in their truths.

My sister was born in 1978. My mom was 17 at the time. She struggled alot with finding footing and a place to stay with a baby. Our mom eventually lived in-service in Grassy Park (GP) with a family. I think there was some stability there but I knew this was Cookie’s start from going to pillar to post with our mom. She was 9 or 10 and travelling alone between GP and Mitchell’s Plain (MP) every week. My mom was working in MP and had me and my sister there with her. Cookie was in GP as there was no “place” for her yet. I will explain that situation another time. These things seem wild to me now, but they happened. I can’t believe her life as a child now. The questions, the anger….its like she never stood a chance. Like it was pre-ordained she’d be the one to have this outsider status with my mom just trying to find a place that is safe and welcoming. Someplace that wasn’t conditional. Our mom recently brought up her and Cookie who was four years old at the time. They had been denied a meal that night, and looked for a new place to stay. I don’t think she forgot these types of things. I can’t fathom doing this to people. But these things happen/ed.

Looking back she was always in challenging situations set up by adults. She eventually lived with us full-time from 12 years old I think. She did fantastically in school. I remember she got picked to be part of a marine biology programme UWC was running for early high-schoolers. She had her heart set on it and would have easily been the first of us to go to tertiary. But it never happened. When we moved out of MP there was a downward spiral, and it was not her fault. I can lay a particular blame somewhere but I won’t for now.

Things all came to an ugly exit for her leaving when she was in grade 11. Our mom had no “voice” in that she had to let her go. Funny how these losses of women’s voices involve other women too. There were many rumours of what my sister was up to. Our mom kept in contact as much as she could. A few years passed and by the time there was a reconciliation our father had passed. Things looked steady. She was in a committed relationship, eventually marrying.

I know she struggled to reconcile with the fact that she didn’t finish school but had all the skills needed. She did what she could, bonafide hustler in the best way. Selling everything from wood to second-hand furniture. She wanted stability and got a job through an employment programme at a local private hospital. Her supervisor even sent her to meetings saying “jou engels is beterer as myne” (your English is better than mine). She had the gift of the gab truly. I used to take a bus home and it was long after her passing when I ran into a guy she made friends with at work. He told me she would always speak about doing the nursing assistant course being offered. I didn’t know this about her. My guilt has coursed through my veins for years for not even knowing what my sister’s dreams were.

Then I think back to how without fail she would visit me at work and there was always something to talk and laugh about. we never spoke about things beyond our immediate concerns, and would laugh and joke about celeb gossip. It was her guilty pleasure to buy the People magazine, call me late at night and talk about what she read. The she would want to know about where I was going that weekend. My ex-partner always had weekend drives and trips planned to places to go pick up a random farm animal (no truly this was her thing). She found it hilarious to hear of our road trips to places with names I never saw on maps. This was Cookie. Her interest in someone’s life was genuine and endearing. She was fascinated by things I found humdrum and made me feel so worthy of her time and ear.

I never understood how she could be so forgiving as I started piecing together how she left and why. She was a child and the elements and people that caused her to leave us had no remorse. She came back and never treated them with disdain or contempt. Her heart was so big it could overcome that. The same heart that eventually failed in her body. She was 36 years old and I really thought we had more time. I was so glad I saw her that week. Her husband found her passed out on their bed clutching her phone. I think around the time she would usually call me. Our calls always started with “mmmmmm” instead of hello, then we would laugh. It was overwhelming to hear my mom say it should have been her and not Cookie. She died peacefully and in her death I learnt more about her. I still want to call her number and realise it no longer exists and got lost in the upgrades through these years.

There were secrets that didn’t need to be secret. Her funeral was so regulated because of the church she had joined when she married. At the gravesite we could say a few words and I can’t even remember what I said. This past week I have been thinking about her so much. I hadn’t in a long time. I am beginning to believe that grief is really love that you can’t place anywhere.

I think she felt she didn’t live up to some standard she thought existed. Something that existed from childhood. It has taken everything in me to not act out against these people that I know directly influenced her leaving us. I know its her telling me to let it go and move on. Our mom has her voice now…in fact she always had it but never got to use it. It is the one wish I can say I always wanted for her….to be able to use it when it was needed back then.

If there is a way to get a message to Cookie now, I want to tell her you were worth more and beyond than all those people that overlooked and assumed you were not.

I am happy that she knew I always believed she was good enough. If you asked me about my sister when I was 5, 12, 21 years old and today I will tell you she was beautiful, loving and loved. Her entrances were loud and happy. She brought life into a house that could heave with silence and a tense atmosphere. Her anecdotes were stomach-paining funny. She knew everyone. The type of person that had to greet 20 people before getting to what she had to do. She crept into your heart and stayed there. She did this with everyone…and in the process leaving parts of her heart and soul with them…with us. Her memory goes beyond remembering her birthday and when she died…..She adored Christmas, even if it was just to get one new outfit. She was a huge tennis fan and kept scrapbooks as a child filled with all her wimbledon faves. She was left handed and only ever wrote in cursive. Her handwriting was the most beautiful I had ever seen. I sometimes go through her old report cards our mom has kept. Every teacher comment was about how happy and engaging she was. She loved RnB and hip hop and looked amazing in skirts and shorts. She would wear rings on all her fingers and moonbags across her chest, with a ‘kettang’ over the bag’s strap. She loved her son with everything in her and then some. She read to him every night. She gifted me random things like a record player and lamps she would find randomly. Her kindness extended beyond what she could afford every time….all the time.

The fear has always been that I will start forgetting things about her. I find that it is impossible. You can never forget being loved intentionally and with grace by someone like her. She is unforgettable. And I love her with no conditions forever.

I can’t wait to see her again , hold her and talk for hours on end.