Lynn-
If someone asked me two days ago to make a list of things I am thankful to you for, I would have tossed my head and rolled my eyes as evidence of what a task this was. But that was two days ago. Eons ago, as it pertains to you and me. Siblings aren’t always perfectly matched, and two days ago I would have provided a nauseating list of all the ways in which you and I clashed. But today is today, and you are gone. All I want is to have a few moments to tell you what I loved about you, and offer thanks for so many things.
Did we fight? Hell yeah, we did. In fact, you are the one who taught me how to throw a solid punch instead of pulling hair in a fight. Thank you for teaching me not to fight “like a girl”. Thank you for being my idol on skis. I never minded one bit being “Lynn Gibson’s Little Sister” in Govt. Camp and on the mountain. Thank you for giving me your super-g race suit and the racing helmet… each sticker and scratch infused with cool. You taught me how to properly tune my skis, laughing at me with pride when I received my first liquid fiberglass burn. You taught me the different waxes to use for conditions, and I always had a slice of wax to crosse-hatch across my bases on the fly. You showed me how to crank my DIN to almost ensure a broken leg if a fall occurred in competition, making competitions as hard-core as possible. Nothing was a quicker fall from status as a “yardsale” (skis, poles, and other random objects strewn on the snow after a bad fall). I remember when you fell at the top of Wingles Wiggle, and your front tooth was hanging by threads from your gumline. I was the only one who could get there to help you down that treacherous wall of moguls. I tried to be cool, but holy shit that was a lot of blood on snow. Thank you for showing me how to skid into the liftline, holding up a “single” pole so we could get to the top faster and ski more. Thank you for including me in your circle of friends on the mountain. For introducing me to the lift employees who would let us cut and go again just after closing.
Thank you for letting me into your world just enough that you threw your head back and laughed when I puked after taking my first dip of chew.
Thank you for singing Van Halen and Def Leppard to me during cold lift treks that were frigid and slippery. Thank you for telling me silly stories when I needed to be distracted.
Thank you for letting me hide behind the washers at ski camp when Skipper died, so I could sob undetected.
I hold secrets of yours that I will take to the grave with me. You, on the other hand, had a big mouth and couldn’t keep a secret for more than an hour. But that was ok with me.
Thank you for introducing me to real punk rock, and for insisting that no little sister of yours was going to be a poser.
Thank you for being my “grumble grumble” partner. I think we won more than we lost.
The shit at the end is just that. It is the in between that I choose to remember.
So, Lynard… hang tough with Dad until it’s my time to join you. I’ll find you with no problem. You’ll be wearing all the clothes you stole from my closet. Until that day comes, Sister…