Cindy was about 10 years older. She was my idol.
She and her sisters were crafty, made fantastic cookies, played the best games, and had a pool in their backyard.
I named many dolls after her. Here's a blurry pic
(not intentional - my grandmother took many blurry pics) of me, my nana, my sister, brother, and little cousin with our dolls. I'm holding Cindy 2 and my brother has Cindy 1 on his lap.
When my dad and my mom split - my cousins were pretty much lost as part of the divorce. We saw each other some holidays, but that became less and less frequent until the last time I saw them when I was 16. Even though I wasn't able to understand it then, I can see now that losing them was difficult for me.
Cindy was everything I wanted to be. Tall, pretty, popular, smart, a fantastic mom, a great cook - perfect. Cindy is an icon in my head. In my mind I see me as her when I'm at my best. When I'm a good mom, I see Cindy. When I'm a great cook, again Cindy.
I need my favorite Cindy doll. Cindy 1. It's in storage in Jersey. Hopefully I'll be able to get it soon.
I'm flying out tomorrow early for her funeral. How do you bury the symbol of all that is good?
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