Tami Jean Burgess
June 18, 1947 - September 2, 2024
As we heard of the sudden death of our eldest sister, my youngest sister texted me: "And then there was five".
Tami was the eldest of my five siblings. She had a rough go in the spring, but once home a few days before her 77th birthday she was doing well and gaining back her strength.
And then.
And then a sudden bad headache, an ambulance, a CT scan, and the neurologist telling my brother-in-law and my niece that there was nothing more to be done.
So that was that.
And those who loved her are left to deal with their grief.
I can't even imagine how her husband of nearly fifty-seven years will deal with the loss. Two days before their anniversary and he now, with the help of his two daughters, has to deal with life alone.
I miss her. I go to telephone her and then remember. I dream about her a lot. I am so glad I went to see her last June just a week or so before she was discharged. She was feisty. I took that as a good sign.
But as Ferron sings "life don't clickety clack down the straight line track".
No, Ferron. it does not.
How do you tell people who did not know her all that she was. She was a teacher, a devote Anglican, a choir director, a mother, an aunt, a grandmother, a wife. My sister. Our sister. We the five who are left behind to grieve.
She played the piano beautifully and had an amazing singing voice. I remember going with her husband years back when she entered a singing contest. I was so excited to see and hear her compete. She was involved with a small theater group. She and her husband got into square dancing.
She love to drink Sherry. She was a tea drinker. I think the only one of us that didn't drink coffee.
She sewed beautifully. Her sewing machine often set up on the dining room table for weeks at a time. She volunteered at her church helping new immigrants, doing the books, presenting the prayers for the people.
She loved music. She regularly attended the folk festival with her daughters and granddaughters. She loved musicals. She loved the theatre.
When I was a teenager I would often spend weeks visiting her and her husband. We would talk and laugh, shop and eat. I remember once being with her in downtown Vernon. She had gone ahead to run some errands. I was a block or so away looking at something. And then I saw her. She was running down the street toward me with a look of ecstasy on her face. Clearly totally unaware of anything but the joy she was feeling as she ran. As if she was a young girl running for no other reason than pleasure. The wind was in her hair. It was a moment I shall never forget.
I now realize she was more than my big sister, my eldest sister. She was a dear friend. She was a talker. Sometimes in conversation with her it was hard to get a word in edgewise. I'll miss that. I'll miss her chattering on. I'll miss her.
The past few years, due to CoVid, we did not have the opportunity to visit each other, but we would have long phone calls. Often in the past year if I needed her I would call and just cry. She would just listen. I knew she was there. Cheering me on from a distance. Feeling for me. Feeling with me.
I had lunch with one of her daughters a few weeks ago. We had talked about how life goes on and people aren't aware of our loss. She had to take one of her children to emergency for some antibiotics. It was a long wait. She said she just wanted to go to the triage counter and say "My Mom just died." When teaching at her College she wanted to say aloud "My Mom just died." We talked about how it would be better if we could wear a black armband, or tear our shirt so the world would know someone important to us, someone we loved had died.
But we don't.
We go on. I phone siblings. I cry. I imagine her in heaven.
I am sure she is singing.
Or running.
I hope she is doing both.
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