In January, I had yet another positive MRI, the third positive one in a row. The tumor showed continued shrinkage and was pronounced dead. This was more conformation that everything was continuing to head in the right direction. All good news, but then, one of the worst days of my life happened.
February 17th, the day I found out my sister April died. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. At the age of 39, with four kids. In a fatal car accident.
My heart broke open.
After my sister's death, I went through her social media. I didn't realize how much she had shared my journey with others, or that she often referred to me as her "hero" in her posts. It's almost as if I recognized the depth of her love for me only after she had passed. Why couldn't I have realized or appreciated it when she was still here?
I also heard from others that when cancer had me at my worst, my sister had said she wished it were her instead of me. Her friends told me that she was working to "save me".
"Save me?" I asked.
And then when I looked back, I thought about all that she had done for me. Hiring her friend, a personal chef, to cook vegan ketogenic meals for me. Going to Carlsbad spring water to bring me back "healing water". Driving me down to San Diego for all day doctors appointments every Saturday. Buying me healing rocks and the healing expo. Being there with me as I cried every tear. Holding space for me. Defending me. Over and over again.
Not too long ago, April said to me jokingly, "I keep waiting to get a shout-out in your blog. You've mentioned Nicole. You've mentioned Rachel. When am I going to get an honorable mention?"
Well, April, this blog is dedicated to you.
One of the most heartbreaking things surrounding my sister's death is that I never had a chance to tell her thank you for all she had done for me these past two years. So I wrote her a letter, and then shared it at her service. Although these words will never do justice in explaining what a beautiful soul my sister is, these are the words I wrote. This is what I spoke:
Dear April,
I wanted to let you know how thankful I am for you and all you’ve taught me. Growing up, you taught us sisters so many important things like how to do the butterfly and the tootsie roll. When mom and dad went out of town, you taught us how to take shots, then fill the bottle of vodka back up with water, right up to the exact line that mom drew, so that she wouldn’t notice. You taught us how to laugh, speak our minds, and how to live life to the fullest.
I will miss your infectious laugh. The way you cried during romantic commercials. I will miss your unique sense of humor and the fun you brought into my life. How you always were the source of so much fun and entertainment at family gatherings. I will miss how you saw humor in everything. I will miss your random texts that made no sense. I will miss your hilarious memes that you sent nearly every day. I will miss your constant overuse of LOL and LMAO in text messages. Nobody made us laugh like you did. You were the comedian in the family and there was never a dull moment with you around.
I will miss that no matter what day it was, no matter what time, or what hardships you were going through, you remained full of fun and laughter. You taught me that no matter what, we can always find the fun in life.
I will miss how even as a grown woman in your 30’s, with 4 kids, you remained silly and childlike. I loved how you would do silly things like jump into the shopping cart at the grocery store and demand to be pushed in the cart while you shopped. How you tried to unboil a hard-boiled egg by putting it in the microwave. How after a night out, instead of simply getting into the car and going back home, you would want to play hide-n-go-seek. How you tried to prove how strong you were by trying to physically pick up a 200 lb. man in a bar wearing five-inch stilettos.. Remember how you went through the drive through in a shopping cart with Mary Jean and actually ordered food? We joked that Rachel and I were your younger, but more mature sisters....I admired your sense of fun and adventure.
Speaking of drive-thru’s ... I will miss your lengthy and complicated Starbucks orders....: A quad long shot grande in a venti cup, double skinny, soy vanilla latte with 2 pumps of vanilla, mocha powder, light ice and well-stirred with a dash of cinnamon...and then, sending it back because the color wasn’t right. I never understood your obsession with Starbucks, but I always admired your audacity.
And you weren’t just the source of fun and entertainment in our family. More importantly, you had a huge heart. You Loved like nobody I know. You loved unconditionally and whole-heartedly. You loved hard. Nothing made you happier than being around your family, especially your kids, who were the twinkle in your eye, and your source of pride.
I will miss your generosity. How for our birthdays, you always wanted to plan something big, extravagant and went way overboard. How you always wanted us to feel special. How you constantly invited us over for dinner and cooked for us. I will cherish how we spent the last Valentine’s Day together and you got me a card, roses, chocolate dipped strawberries, cooked me and Rachel dinner. I admire how you always made us feel special.
When I was diagnosed with cancer 2 years ago, you were more devastated than I was. You were there for me every day. All the way. You constantly brought me gifts. You hired your friend Julia, the chef to cook special meals for me. You went to get me “healing water” from the Carlsbad spring. For months, you drove me all the way down to San Diego to my naturopathic doctor appointments on a suspended driver’s license and then spent entire Saturdays there with me as I received high-dose Vitamin C infusions.
When I had to move back in with Mom and Dad, I complained to you that Dad had too much chocolate in the house, and I was stressing about the constant temptation, so being the protective older sister, you took it upon yourself to empty out Dad’s chocolate fridge, and hid all the chocolate on my behalf even though you knew Dad would get angry.
You had guts April. I always admired your courage. You always wanted to protect us.
I remember the last night I slept over at your house. You gave me your entire king-sized bed, you gave Nicole the couch and then you slept on the floor. I asked you why you didn’t just sleep in the bed with me, and you said because you didn’t want to disrupt my sleep.
I admired your sacrifice and desire to help me get better.
When my condition started to improve, and the tumor started to shrink, you were my biggest fan, my biggest cheerleader. You told everyone, I was your hero. But the truth is, April,....YOU are my hero.
You weren’t afraid to live your life to the fullest, to be your authentic self. You weren’t afraid to speak your mind. You weren’t afraid to love with your whole heart. You weren’t afraid to have fun. I will cherish the 37 years that I got to have with you. I will be forever grateful for the lessons and memories you gave me. It’s hurts that I won’t be able to have you by my side, to help me navigate through my continued healing journey, but I know that your spirit is here, I promise you that I’ll work hard to keep getting better, and I know you’ll be guiding me. I promise to be around for a long time in order to be the best auntie I can be for your kids.
I know that you are in a better place. In heaven. I know you’re with Grandpa Merlin and Great Grandpa. With Heidi and her dad. With Carline. I know you’re having fun cracking everyone up. Because that’s just who you are. I also know you’re here watching over us because you’re our protector. I can’t be mad at God for bringing you home. I can only look forward to the day we meet again.
Thank you for all the love you gave to us. Love you to the moon and back.
