We have a Swiss sister named Isabelle. She became a part of our family around 1983, because she came to live with Mom and Dad in Clayton. At 15 years old, she travelled to the U.S. on her own. She ended up at Rabun County High School, where she and Melinda became fast friends. Since they were both fairly new to the school (I was off at college by this time) and a bit exotic for the area, a city girl and a Swiss girl, they bonded quickly. When Izzy’s living situation didn’t work out, she moved to Cloudwood and became a permanent part of the Hunter family.

Once she graduated, she moved to Atlanta, spent a season living with my Aunt Francis, endearing her to our extended family as well. Before returning to Switzerland she had been in our lives for a few years. We stayed in touch through Mom and Dad, like sisters do when their lives get busy. Always knowing each other’s jobs, significant others, children etc… Checking in on each other from a distance.

Two years ago, Mom was getting weaker after breaking her leg. We all knew we were close to the end. Izzy flew in for a few days to say her goodbyes. She told Dad her plan was to come back for his 90^th birthday, but none of us knew at that time that it would be her last goodbye to Dad as well. She was here just long enough for us to reconnect, but not long enough to catch up on the last 40 years. We were sad to see her go and were looking forward to seeing her again in just a couple of years. After the shock of Dad’s sudden death, a benefactor, who shall remain unnamed, gifted us a sister trip to Switzerland for Izzy’s 60^th birthday since she would no longer be coming to the States for Dad’s birthday. This person knew Melinda and I were exhausted from the past 7 years and needed a change of scenery. Boy, did we!

In 1999, Mom and Dad planned a trip to Switzerland which included time with their Swiss daughter and their Swiss grandkids. They had a wonderful time with Izzy and she gave them the grand tour of her Zurich. When we were going through Mom and Dad’s things after they passed, we decided Mom and Dad would want her to have the photo album Mom made of their time in Switzerland. We had planned to ship it to her, but last week we took the album with us and hand delivered it. As a remembrance. As a birthday gift. As an inheritance.

You know those relationships you have where it doesn’t matter how long you have been apart, you just pick up as if no time has passed? This is one of those. We all had butterflies. The excitement was physically evident. Melinda and I didn’t sleep one wink on the way over, not for lack of trying. We had no plans except to spend time with Izzy. Every time we tried to figure out what we wanted to see in Switzerland we were overwhelmed. Grief has been so heavy our brains didn’t want to cooperate with detailed decision making. So, we told Isabelle, “You pick.” And she did. Perfectly, for what we needed.

When we arrived at the airport we were exhausted but eager to see our sister. She called our names and when we turned we saw not only Izzy, but also our nephew David. He had some business for a couple of days in Zurich so, he surprised all three of us at the airport! There were hugs and tears all around. Family, reunited. Our first time to see Isabelle since Mom and Dad passed. I don’t think any of us realized how badly we needed those hugs.

Mom and Dad were like parents to her. They rescued her when she was near death with sickness. Melinda noticed she had been out for three days from school. Since she had never been absent before, Mom decided they needed to check on her. When she and Melinda arrived, Izzy was unconscious in the floor with a high fever. They rushed her to the doctor and got her medicine for out of control strep and IV fluids for dehydration. Next up, they contacted her parents in Switzerland and got permission for her to live with them since she and Melinda were best friends. So that’s the story of how we got our Swiss sister…we’ve kept her ever since. 🙂

Anytime I would come home from college, we would chatter away. We picked up that habit again at the airport as if we had never been apart. We chatted all the way to her place, where she moved us into her bedroom for the week. We chatted for hours beside Lake Zurich and continued even while swimming in the lake. We chatted late into the night each night, and started again every morning. We made up for lost time. We saw the sights, met her children whom we had never met before in person. When David left half way through the week, we continued to meet our new Swiss family. Her cousin and her aunt delightfully invited us into their homes and treated us to Swiss hospitality at its best.

Most of all we remembered. Mom and Dad. We cried. We laughed. We told stories. Stories of love and laughter. Being together was just what we all needed to cope with our loss. Grief has been an every day companion this last year. It has felt close at hand at all times. Just under the surface and sometimes spilling out. I have written and I have had writer’s block. I have talked about it and been silent. I have felt like I should be able to move past it. No one has said that. I don’t even believe it. I know grief lasts years, especially the big grief of losing two of the closest people to me in such short succession. Yet, I feel like I want to talk about something else…to write about other things…that my readers deserve to get some happy pieces once in a while.

A week in Switzerland, with all of us reminiscing I felt understood. In a safe place to just talk, cry, laugh, and heal. We all felt Mom and Dad were with us there. Lots of winks from them. Birds, flowers, and all things nature. It’s like they were overseeing our time. It didn’t matter that the mountains stayed in hiding behind the rain clouds. We’ll see them next time. Every drop of rain was a tear that cleansed our souls. Every beam of the sun was a joyous gift to raise our spirits. Grief does that. Comes and goes.

Now I am sitting in Helen, our imitation Swiss village, and I am missing the real thing. Still catching up from jet lag. Still missing our conversations. But more settled in my soul for having been together. Feeling a part of something bigger than grief…love.