Private Dancers

My sister, Vicki, is one of those special sisters that lives up to her name.

Our Dad, Vic. Got his name right up IN there. The very elements of Victor Leon Miller, our dad. No special vowel "e" added to her name: Just Vicki.

The "e" at the end of Vicki_ would have made it, somehow weak. Cutesy, even.

Not her.

Strong: this woman.

Watched, as her older brother (me) got kudos on EVERY side of our family. Golden Boy. Watched as the other male brother, Jon, got blessings throughout the journey of our sibling-family-life. He, at age 14, dealt with our Dad's passing, before his eyes, on the couch of our family home in Ravenna, after an especially specially wonderful tennis practice. Made the horrible call. Gone: Dad.

She: Took into her home our mother, Janice, in the early days of her Alzeimers and beyond. Not so much love from our Mom, who had so much love to give, but didn't know how to deal with her.

But now: It is her, this blessed Sister, who cares so much for my mother and checks on her at her special place at a place in Richmond, KY amid the business (busy-ness) of our daily lives.

I listen.

As Vicki deals with her teenage daughter and son. My nephew at Asbury, doing well, I hear. My neice, her daughter, still clinging to the hope that may be the next Cheerleader championship, or at the very least, not to be let down once again by yet another foiled BoyFriend.

Vicki's husband, William: devoted. Loves her. He and she have been through various moms and dads Goings-Away. I know that Bill loves her and that is ONE thing I don't have to worry about. I think he kinda loves me and Tom, too.

My Mom, Janice, instilled in me a pride that what she and Vic did. He was proud of us. She is proud of us. As the oldest son, I feel a need to put down in words:

I am proud of both of you: Vicki and Jon. Simply, holy, proud. We are Family. Private dancers.