We were known as the Hoitenga sisters, four of us born within eight years of each other. If one of us ran into an acquaintance of another, there was enough of a resemblance that we’d hear, “You must be a Hoitenga.”
We wore our sister status with pride. We were normal sisters who loved each other and who disagreed on most things regarding politics, churches, husbands, kids, careers, appearances, wardrobes, books, and, you name it, and we could have a robust discussion.
For example, we were all dishwater blonds–but one splurged on highlighting in a salon, another had her daughter frost her hair by pulling it through a cap, another used a total hair-color bottle approach at home. Me? I’ve done all but the total bottle approach.
One of us shopped at Talbot’s, another at Nordstrom, another at Penney’s, and another at Macy’s.
And don’t talk to us at election time! How could we differ so much when we had the same mutual respect for our fellow human beings, our country? And the same beliefs about God?
But it’s those differences that glued us together. Never holding back. Being true to ourselves while also respecting the others. Before emailing came into existence, and always living in different cites from Toledo to Seattle, we kept in touch by a Round Robin. We included our sister-in-law and, theoretically, when we got the Round Robin letter, we were suppose to move it on within a week. That didn’t always happen and the advent of email bailed us out. I used to joke that one day, one of us would wake up to no emails from sisters.
Well, now it’s no joke. Last week I buried the last of my three sisters. (I buried my brother in 2005.) Only my sister-in-law and I remain, the oldest and the youngest.
Of course, the enormity of this latest loss has not hit yet. But I do know for sure that I’m the only Hoitenga sister left. And there’s something very sad about that.





I’m almost 80. Our mother lived till 95 and our dad till 90. The discrepancy in ages at death in my family puzzles me. When will it be my turn?
A friend asked how I feel about losing all my siblings. I answered the first thing that came to mind, “Not only widowed, but now also orphaned.” I remind myself of Rose’s words about life, “It’s all about Jesus you know, Lo.” That reminder brings comfort.
Oh Lois, I’m so sorry for the loss of Rose. I wish I could give you a gentle hug in person. I have 3 sisters also. I am the oldest at 66. I am anxious to be able to visit them each since I have retired, except for Covid. God knows and he will make a way. Currently my sister Jeanie and I facetime on Tuesday and Thursday evenings at 7p.. It is wonderful to make time for one another. Love to you as you grieve Rose’s departure into Jesus arms.
Blessings,
Renee Schmieder
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Thank you, Renee. I’m happy to see you make efforts to keep in touch with your sisters. You’ll never regret it.
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Sorry to hear you lost your sister, Lois. Your reminiscing about life as one of four girls brought back memories – also one of four sisters. So many questions as our numbers fade.
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We share that sister fact! Nice. You understand. Thank you.
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I am an orphan also. What I miss is that there is no one to ask about a question I have about the family. I am thankful for cousins who keep me connected to the broader family.
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It’s hard to lose the family fact gatherer. Esther was that in our family. I have no cousins to help me now. We can be thankful, though, that we had siblings.
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My deepest sympathies to you on your loss. What a wonderful tribute.
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Thank you!
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So sorry to hear of Rose’s passing. Love the pictures of your parents and sisters. They help to keep the loving memories alive for you.
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Yes. Memories help. Thank you, Marianna.
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Hope you have a great day at ‘Almost 80’ and do grieve with you for our loss. Thanks for the writing. It helps me grieve.
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Thanks, Brent. Glad it helps!
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Our sympathy to you, Lois. This was a wonderful tribute to them, and reflects your deep loving respect for them.
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Thank you, Lois!
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Lois, I am so sorry for your loss. I am one of three sisters who kept in close contact always although we couldn’t have lived farther from each other had we tried. My eldest sister was in Los Angeles, I am in Wellington and Marianne, our baby at 80, lives in London in the UK. We were always known as the Rita girls. Our surname was Rita. I recently lost my eldest sister and so there are now only two Rita girls left. It’s hard to describe the link between sisters to those who have not been lucky enough to have at least one. Take care. Grieve in your own time for your sister Rose. Take comfort from your faith and all the memories hugs from the other side of the world.
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Thank you, Judith! A Rita gal. Love it. How nice.
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Beautifully written. Great memories is what life gives us after a loss. God be close. Love
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Thank you!
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