My sister, Louise, and I were four years apart. You take so much for granted throughout life like you’ll always have your big sister there no matter what…especially an older sister who looked out for you and with whom you shared so much, no matter how many fights you had growing up. My sister became the matriarch of the family after my grandmother and my mother passed away. She continued to make all those traditional cookies that took hours, not to mention the homemade Lebanese sfiha and, of course, my grandparents’ homemade Italian sausage. Louise changed the spices of that recipe and refused to tell anyone what she did to take that sausage to the next level. Louise was the kind of person that would literally give you the shirt off her back. Her door was always open and her dinner table could always find a place for one more. Even though we didn’t see each other often since she lived in the Midwest and I on the east coast, we spoke to each other almost every day. The day before she died unexpectedly, I called her and she told me that her priest came to hear her confession, give her Holy Communion, and anoint her. None of us thought that was preparation for the next day but just a beautiful blessing from God. Little did we know. That was my last conversation with her. We both ended it with “I love you”. She passed away less than 24 hours later. After her passing while going through her recipe box, her daughters found her spice recipe for the Italian sausage. Rest in peace, my dearest sister until we meet again.
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