Holding Hands with Cathy

It’ been a long time since we held hands. I remember Cathy standing on the corner after school at St. Matthias Elementary waiting for me. She always held my hand on the walk back and forth to school. Sometimes when we were lying in bed, sharing secrets or talking about something important like what to buy dad or mom for Christmas, we held hands, too. But kids grow up, have their own families, and well, they just don’t hold hands much anymore.

But last week, I found myself taking her hand in mine at Seidman Cancer Center at University Hospital in Cleveland. My older sister had just endured invasive surgery on her right ear, chin and neck, and yet there she was, strolling down the hall just a day later. And so I took her hand.

I guess you could say I’ve been following my sister’s lead for as long as I can remember. She was a real fashionista in college and beyond, so I often “borrowed” her yellow or pink ruffled blouse to wear with my uniform to Cardinal Mooney High. I went into education, too, just like her, but she was a principal for well over 40 years. I watched her raise her boys and get through much suffering while caring for my parents as they aged and our father passed. But like I said, I hadn’t held her hand.

I knew the cancer surgery would shake me up, and it has. On Tuesday, her men (one devoted husband and two handsome sons and one boy’s girl) and I were pretty nervous as we awaited the surgeon’s reports. Yes, the margins appeared to be clear, and yes, her recuperation would indeed be extensive. But seeing her in the room afterward with the long incision, brave yet teary eyed, left me feeling helpless to aid the woman who has helped so many in her life.

And so when we walked down the hall the next day, I took her hand. I wasn’t sure how she’d react, but she held onto me, too. And then like when we were little girls, I started telling her secrets. I told her that yes, I knew I always loved her, but I hadn’t any idea just how much until I sat praying at her bedside that first night. She smiled her beautiful smile, her green eyes, so like my daughter’s, twinkled. And I thanked God, truly thanked Him, for helping my wonderful sister, the one I’ve always emulated, the one I treasure even more than before, survive the surgery we all dreaded.

Pray for her healing and recovery, won’t you? She’s one of the good ones. Oh, and if you knew her, you’d want to hold her hand, too.