2006 - The Day the Cookies Cried

My happy, darling sister, Lisa, frosting cookies for Christmas.

Mom called today and told me Lisa died. How, oh how, is that possible?! I refused to believe it. My brain still can't fathom it. My Lisa!! Co-founder and co-author of Our Cookie Journal. Sister. Best friend. Mother. Daughter. Wife. All-around goodnik. How is she gone?!

I talked to her Thursday — she was going to bake cookies with Mom this year. Mom was out at Lisa's house Friday, so they could plan what they were going to bake. They had decided to bake tomorrow but Lisa was tired and her back was hurting, so she wanted to move it to Thursday and Friday. She was supposed to see a specialist on Wednesday. 

How could my dearie be dead? I'm so alone here in England — I wish I was home with Mom and Lisa's girls. I just hope Mike waits with the funeral for me — so I can see her one last time. Oh my God — I'm just sick with grief over her. She was only 44. Her youngest daughter, April, just celebrated her 10th birthday four days ago!! And it's Aunt Catherine's birthday. This is just so wrong.

I'm glad I spoke to her several times over the past few weeks. She was looking forward to Christmas, as always. We talked about stocking stuffers and presents for the kids. And how much we miss each other. She had made Pumpkin Bread with giant loaf pans that Mike had bought for her. And she had told Mom that she wanted to make "Kevin's" Lime Meltaways. And she told me that she wanted to get the Kolacky recipe from me. 

It's Sunday, Dec. 10, and I usually call her on Sundays. I don't know how to go on without her. I wish I had been able to reach her when I called her Friday. How can she be gone?! LISA!!! I need you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Lisa Jo — my only sister. My dearie. My "dahlink". I love you so much!!

Needless to say, I won't be baking any more cookies this Christmas. (Or listening to U2 — our favorite band — ever again.) Charlie and I are booked on a flight to Louisville on Wednesday. Meanwhile, I'm walking around the house like a caged animal, wanting only to be home with my family. Poor Charlie doesn't understand, so I have to keep up appearances for his sake. But I cannot stop crying and wishing with all my heart that this is not real...