Seven minutes before me, Lisa arrived � first in the world. She was 5 lbs. 4 oz. and I was 5 lbs. 13 1/2 oz. I used to say I kicked her out, then she would say �yes, but I kicked you in the face on the way out.� We have a unique sense of humor. �Corn fed babies� with red hair, green eyes and pale white skin � we loved each other, we hated each other, we were inseparable �
We grew up together with our parents and siblings in South Berwick, Maine. We were called the Boston twins, the red head twins, the Bobbsey twins, the Campbell soup kids, and we had the same hairstyles and wore identical outfits until the age of 7. I found out later that this was very upsetting to Lisa because "we were no longer twin-like."
She wrote of herself at age 7,
�She is an identical twin and is confident as long as the other twin is present or close by. They are pretty much inseparable. Lisa�s identity is interwoven with her twin sister�s. This dress I am wearing (is it me?) is one of a pair of non-identical dresses that my sister insisted that my mother purchase. I cried when we had to wear them the first time because we weren�t twin like. My sister was happy to break the mold. I�ve really never forgiven her for that.�
We wore our hair long, identical until Lisa started parting her hair in the middle to be different. I kept the bangs. People would tell us apart by our hair, i.e. Lynn-line; or Lynn �in� the eyes. I still have the same hairdo I�ve had since I was two.
As we grew up, we became very competitive for love and acceptance from others, our teachers, our friends, and boys. We shared our friends (not boyfriends) and secrets. Our house was the place to be after school, the hangout! Lisa and I would whip up whatever was in the house to feed our friends, (macaroni and tomatoes, peanut butter and crackers, grilled cheese sandwiches, French fries!) and then we would all scramble upstairs to our room to listen to music, read teen magazines, dream about Bobby Sherman, the Monkees and the Beatles and gossip about boys. The friends we made back then are the friends we/I treasure still. When Lisa was sick with cancer during the spring and summer of 2001, our friends from childhood came together to care for her. It meant the world to Lisa to have them there. And to me too.
Throughout our childhood, Lisa & I slept together in a double bed. When we were teenagers, our parents got us "twin� beds. We still shared the same room and every weekend we had a friend (or two) spending the night. We would push the twin beds together and the "friend" would end up sleeping on the crack. Lisa would pull the blankets to her side and I would be pulling on the other side, and the "friend" in the middle would complain that the blankets weren't even touching her. I remember one night during her illness, we slept together on the pullout couch in her living room. It felt like old times.
We didn't have a phone back then, but there was a phone booth on the corner across the street from our house. We would have the operator call a friend's house, and whoever answered would hear a frantic "Call the booth!" And we'd hang up fast before the operator could ask for the dime. Many a time a concerned mother would call back to let us know if a friend wasn't home. They knew the drill,,,,,
Growing up in a small town in Maine, I always felt I was under a spotlight, a microscope. Everyone knew who I was when I walked down the street, but even then, I was just 'one of the twins.' I remember once a boy from school asked me, "Which one are you?" and before I could answer he said, "forget it, it doesn't really matter." I was devastated, I longed for my own identity. I moved from home at 19, to Massachusetts, with a friend, for 6 months that turned into 27 years (so far). I remember how happy I was to be in Boston, walking amidst hundreds of people, no one knew my name. It was delicious. I was finally anonymous.
We had our wild times! I remember once hitchhiking with Lisa from Maine to my apartment in South Boston, getting picked up by a state trooper, who was so charmed by the two of us, he didn't arrest us but tried to get us a ride the rest of the way. He ended up dropping us off on the side of the highway to fend for ourselves. We made it home ok; we got a ride pretty quickly. We took a lot of chances, but we always seemed to survive somehow!
Lisa had 3 children, each one in a different decade. At times she resented my carefree lifestyle, I envied her family and the traditions she maintained; everyone was always traveling to her house to spend time with her and her children. Lisa's house became my home away from home and I spent many nights and weekends there with various boyfriends and friends from Massachusetts. I was content to be the favorite aunt to her children. I have so many happy memories of spending time with Lisa, our friends, and her kids over the years. I miss those times so much. I miss her laugh and her voice on the phone.
I have been working as a graphic designer in Massachusetts for the past 13 years. I have a Shiht�zu named Mishka, my only responsibility. Lisa was a telephone operator for Verizon and went to school part time. She raised 3 beautiful children, Wendy, now 29, is married to David and has 2 gorgeous children, Rebecca, age 4 and Reed, born a year and a half after Lisa died. Reed has red hair! We all think the red hair is a �hello� from Lisa. J Lisa loved being a grandmother. She wrote of Rebecca, �what a joy to hold her in my arms.� Lisa loved it when Rebecca called her �Mammy� a name she picked out for herself. Rebecca loves angels, she knows her Mammy is one now.
Lisa�s daughter Meagan is 17 and living with her father in New York. Losing her mother one month before her 15th birthday has been very hard on her and she�s gone through some very difficult times. Russell is now 10; he is a twinless twin too. Lisa lost his twin brother 5 months into her pregnancy. He is such a sweet and beautiful child. He lives in Maine with his father, Rusty. I visit them often. We all miss Lisa tremendously. I see Lisa in all of her kids, and in her grandchildren too. Her spirit lives on in them.
I still can�t believe she died!
Lisa was diagnosed with lung cancer on April 13, 2001. She died on June 29, 2001. It all happened so fast, starting with a cough that wouldn�t go away. Throughout her ordeal, she was very brave. She never gave up hope, and the family and friends who cared for her, and loved her, hoped and prayed that she would live.
She endured many trips to the hospital, ambulance rides back and forth to Maine Medical Center for 23 radiation treatments, 2 chemo treatments (she died before the third), and so much pain and suffering. Lisa was distressed to become totally dependent upon us, but she was so happy to have us with her. I am very thankful she didn�t lose all of her hair. We have always liked our �big hair� and that was one thing she was afraid to face. Our friends and I made a pact that if Lisa lost her hair, we would all shave our heads. She died before that happened.
Lisa had many irreplaceable gifts that we all loved and appreciated � generosity; Yankee ingenuity; hilarious laughter; a bawdy sense of humor; she was always looking out for and sticking up for the underdog. She had an adventurous spirit and had the ability to bring people together. She wasn�t afraid of anything. She was a great writer! She didn�t want to die. She was going back to work, and back to school. She wanted to see all of her children grow to adulthood.
The year before she died, she wrote,
�I�m happy, after many years of restlessness, with the person I�m becoming. Although it has been a struggle to remain stable after years of aimlessness and lack of focus, I am now anchored and on course. I do have many things to be thankful for.
I am the queen of my world. My husband, Rusty, my children, Wendy, Meagan, and Russell adore me, and I them. My granddaughter, Rebecca, when she visits from North Carolina, says, �Hi Mammy!� with excitement and a smile.
I have kept the same treasured friends for almost thirty years. Sheryl, Stephanie, Lynda, Leslie, my friend Joanne who is now my sister in law. Most of them knew me before I reached puberty, and they tolerate me still, as I approach menopause. We have lost touch on occasion, but there�s been a connection that has always pulled us back into each other�s lives. I call it a lifeline.
After many years of renting, I recently purchased a seven year old, four bedroom split-level home on three beautiful wooded acres. My job is reasonably secure, although usually boring. My classes are paid for; I only have to purchase books. When I retire from the phone company, I hope to have earned a doctorate degree in something, debt free, and to be as educated as I�ve never dreamed I could be.
I quit smoking four months ago, after a 30-year addiction. I have started walking, am trying to get into shape, to get healthy. Life is good now. Although I am, at 44, middle aged, fat, and no longer beautiful, I am happier, more content, more at peace than I have ever been.
In the future, I plan to continue taking classes here at CLL. I would like to write a book. I sometimes ask my friends who they would like to play them in the movie. I have big dreams.
This class has meant a lot to me. I am truly grateful for this opportunity to meet you all. I have listened in awe as you have shared freely your most painful experiences. You are molding your lives into a triumph. I hope someday to do the same.�
We lost Lisa on June 29, 2001. I was with her when she died. Her death was the worst thing to happen to our family. These past two years have been very hard. We are surviving somehow. Finding the Twinless Twins Support Group has saved my life. The next best thing to hearing my twin sister�s laughter is to hear another twinless twin laugh. I have found so many friends who I will adore and cherish for the rest of my life. The complete understanding and support we share helps us all so much. We are survivors. We will never be the same without our twins but together we are finding a �new normal�
It brings me peace now to visit Lisa. She is buried in our hometown, South Berwick, Maine, in a very old cemetery in a family plot beside our grandparents and our brother David, and among many friends and relatives. We kids used to joke around that there were 5 plots left but nobody was fighting to get into them. Now there are 4. I want to be buried right beside Lisa. One day during the first year after Lisa died, I went to visit her, feeling very alone. As I was backing my car out a bright light was beaming down on me - when I stopped my car, the light stayed on me, and when I moved again, it moved with me. I felt strength from that beam of light. I believe it was Lisa saying hi. Another time I was there and, as I was leaving, one of her favorite songs 'Shanty' came on the radio. I sat there listening to this song, that reminded me of her so much, and, remembering her then, I felt good. I do feel her around me, and so do her kids. She�s still with us. She�s our angel in heaven, and she would laugh at hearing that!
I found this poem at another twinless twin�s website, and it expresses the sorrow of each passing year:
Memories are treasures no one can steal.
Death is the heartache no one can heal.
They say time heals every hurt,
but this I cannot say.
For you have been gone one year,
and I still miss you every day.
Thank you for this opportunity to tell our story.
In twinship,
Lynn Boston, twin to Lisa Boston Frye