Kodachrome-ing a Moment in Time

Kodachrome - Paul Simon

Kodachrome - the ability to capture a moment and hold on to it long after the moment has passed. It's just not the same with digital images, where most don't bother to print that tangible proof of the time worth capturing. And it's so easy to delete and do over. Or so we think. Perhaps it is because there are no second chances that I find myself occasionally looking over the photographic images with a caressing finger and tear running down my cheek. So many memories. Both good and bad. It may seem unusual for some to document in image form the bad but it happens. A gathering at a funeral, a wrecked car after a mishap, Mother Natures glory before her fury. 

But while Paul Simon thinks back on all the crap he learned in high school I think of one person who left this world too soon and left my life long before I was ready for it. My sister Sandra Sdraulig. Sandra was born on All Saints Day (November 1) one year and 22 days before I came along. She was the oldest, the wisest, the most confident and she seemed so grown up. Our twin beds occupied the same room but her and I had very little in common in our pre-teen years. There were four kids in the family and when we paired off to battle or play, she was never on my team. Sandra would rather rough-house with the boys or talk to the adults then play silly pretend games with barbie dolls and secrets. She was self-assured, confident and well-liked by all. She had a entourage of friends with a few especially close ones. She was talented in sports and excelled at artistic endeavours like ballet, tap and jazz dancing. It seemed that she succeed in all that she tried and I was envious of her abilities that seemed to come so easily. 

Sandra trying to push me into the fountain! Or so I thought

It seems strange sometimes that there was only one year difference between us but she seemed to have accomplished so much. Despite her tom-boyish behaviour she was an accomplished seamstress (clearly inheriting my mom's talent in this area), she had been on a tour of Italy with my grandparents where she perfected the language so as to converse fluently with all the friends and relatives who passed through our door. This brief journey cemented an unbreakable bond between her and our grandfather. Truly the only time I remember him smiling is when they had their arms around each other. The closeness that they shared was a joy to observe. Laughing and smiling together with private jokes only they understood. All cross-generational family relationships should be so special. As an adult I could understand the pain and anguish that he must have felt when she died - like a piece of his heart was ripped away. He never smiled again - not sober anyways. As a kid of 12 when Sandra passed away, all I felt from my grandfather was a resentment that she was gone and I remained. She was a treasure for sure and a crushing blow for him. 

But he wasn't alone in feeling her loss so intently. The Home Economics teacher saw all the fruits of her labour come to a head with the enthusiasm and talent that Sandra possessed in the domestic arts. I followed a year later in the same classroom with none of the zeal and a mountain of resentment that the Catholic education system would not allow me to join the boys in the Industrial Arts room to play with the tools. It was hard being in her shadow and worse when people expected me to rise to her level. She had some pretty big shoes to fill. I didn't come close.

As different as people saw us after she was gone, I saw similarities. We were two young girls trying to find our own place in the world. Fortunately, as she neared her teen years and upcoming high school experience, we suddenly found that in the darkness after family "good nights" were spoken, we leaned over the edge of the beds to whisper secrets of boys, love and life. I was suddenly a person she looked to for companionship and friendship. The gap that separated us was closing and I couldn't have been more thrilled. We had a commonality suddenly - boy crazy. The time of connectivity was short-lived because she was ripped from my heart too. My grandfather may have had her closeness for longer but it hurt me too when she was no more. For many years I walked into our room and saw her empty bed. Many times I wanted to lean across the narrow pathway between the beds and shake her mattress to wake up and talk. 

Dad takes a break from working on the house
to cradle his new babe!

The last day of her life, as we began that fateful car ride Paul Simon began to sing Kodachrome and Sandra remarked that it was her favourite song. I don't know what meaning it held for her if any. Maybe it was just thoughts of bright colours and the greens of summer. But the bright colour that came that night were not nice and she never made to see the summer colours again. I don't remember the last words that she spoke to me. In the dark of the night as my mom guided the car down the divided highway, Sandra occupied the front middle seat. It had been a long day and if us four kids weren't asleep we were dozing off. In the aftermath when the car came to a rest on its roof in the middle of the Grindstone River, the flames were bright and words of fear (from my youngest sister, Linda) and words of encouragement (from my mom) were spoken. But not a word from Sandra. Seat belts weren't used in those days and I always hoped that she had been spared the pain and may have been killed in the initial impact being tossed into the front dash or windshield. I've asked and no one has ever answered. In the end it really doesn't matter how. The knowing doesn't change the outcome, she was gone. My dad's first born and pride of his heart had left to go be with him. 

Sandra models the dress she made herself

She left me to take on the role of oldest in the family and I was ill-equipped to follow in her footsteps and forever remained in her shadow. 

I regret not knowing her better. I regret not having her to turn to in the quiet of the night with the fears faced growing up. I regret not having her by my side and never again knowing what it is like to grow up in a sisterhood. She was an amazing child of 13 when she left the earthly world and she would have been an amazing adult. No doubt! And my life is much emptier not having had her a part of it. When I consider a role model for my life, she is it. She is my big sister!

If I knew that the last time I hugged you it would be the last time, I would never let go. If I knew the last time I saw you smile would be the last time, I would never blink. If I knew the last time I heard you voice would be the last time, I would never want to hear another sound. If I knew the last time I saw you would be the last time I would take pictures til there was no Kodachrome left in the world and hold them in my withering old hands. But I never knew. The times I cried for you can not be calculated, the tears I've shed make Niagara Falls look like a babbling brook. I love and miss you. This lifetime without you has been too long.

Happy Birthday Sandra...see you soon!