And Now There Are Two

Once upon a time there were seven little girls, sisters who were separated in age by 15 years from oldest to youngest. There were also two little brothers, but they were older and did not have the same father as the little girls did. The little girls' father had hoped in vain for sons of his own, but finally understood - after seven daughters in a row - that it was not to be. So he adopted the little boys and gave them his name. Apart from the three oldest sisters who were old enough to remember, the little girls didn't know their brothers as well as they knew each other.

In their earliest years, the burgeoning family lived in a tiny house near the coal mine owned and operated by their father and his brothers at some distance outside the nearest small town. Here are six of the seven (minus the youngest daughter, who hadn't been born yet) near the creek at the mine, where they all loved to play. My mother, described as "a little dark-haired beauty" by her older sister, was the second oldest. Here she most resembles her own daughter, Artist Sis.

Their father and his younger brothers had come to Montana via Canada from Buckinghamshire in England. Some versions of the story maintained that the brothers had originally intended to work their way across Canada and ultimately set sail for Australia. But by the time they reached Alberta, they had heard about the land giveaways by the Great Northern Railway in the high plains of northern Montana. In those days, it was easy to enter the US, so they simply walked across the Canadian border. Having spent time in coal mines in England, they knew what was necessary to manage one. They spent the rest of their lives in Montana, first mining, then farming.

The little girls flourished. The family eventually moved into town so that the girls could attend school there, but summers were generally spent at the mine. Little did the girls imagine that someday - many years hence - some would have their ashes scattered in that beautiful place where they remembered their happiest days. But many years would pass before that would happen.

By the time the oldest of the little girls became young women, WWII was raging in Europe. Ultimately the US entered the fray after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. The war's reverberations were felt by all. The oldest, Aunt H, had married a farmer, an immigrant from Norway, in the years before the US entered the war. My mother and her sisters, Aunts L & J, headed west to Seattle where they were able to find jobs that were then opening up to women while the men were conscripted to fight. My mother and Aunt L married their husbands, both servicemen for the US in WWII, in the early part of the war before the men were sent abroad. When mother discovered that she was "expecting," she returned to her parents' home, as did Aunt L with her own newborn daughter. Most of the sisters were thus reunited for the duration of the war. The younger sisters finished their schooling. All met and married husbands and had children in due course. Here the family, less Aunt J, is assembled for the wedding of the "baby" Aunt Ja (aka "Butter," so nicknamed because she was "as precious as butter," which was rationed during the Great Depression when she was born). My mother, standing next to her parents, is the only sister who is not dressed as part of the wedding party. She was "expecting" Healer Sis at the time.

I do not seem to have any of the family photos that feature all seven in the same photo, if any such exist at all. It seems that there was always at least one who was absent - not always from this world - simply from the photo. Here, for example, is a photo of five (Aunt J is once again absent but Aunt Butter had passed) posing with their oldest brother, Uncle J.

Ironically, it was the youngest, Aunt Butter, who was the first to leave this world, even before her parents or her older brothers, stricken by a cerebral hemorrhage in her 40s. Later it was Aunt MJ's turn in her 70s, followed by my mother in her 80s and Aunt J, just having turned 80, all victims of manifestations of that most deadly disease: cancer. This photo of the five sisters remaining after Aunt MJ's death seems to presage that their calling home was nearing for all, haloed as they are in the sun.

Last month, it was Aunt L's turn, also due to cancer. And now there are two.

Our family "matriarch," Aunt H, and her second-youngest sister, Aunt E, are still here. We love them both, just as we will always love their sisters. We can only imagine how happy they all must be to be reunited with so many they loved. But we will always miss them - and remember.