Anne2345
11-15-2013, 08:33 PM
My sister passed away last evening at 5:47 p.m. EST, as I gently caressed and cradled her feverish, disease ridden, and battle-scarred head lovingly in my arms.
My sister, 41 years old and the mother of a sweet, innocent, beautiful three year old little girl, finally lost her ten year war against cancer.
My sister, although she had won 3 previous and hard fought battles against the enemy throughout the years, could not defeat the scourge a fourth time.
The cancer came back too strong this time. It was brutally, effectively, and efficiently powerful. It became and evolved quickly into an overwhelming and unstoppable force, and engaged heavily, unfairly, and without mercy in guerilla warfare tactics designed to weaken and destroy my sister’s body, brain, mind, and will. The cancer held nothing back this time, absolutely nothing, and it went for the hardcore decisive kill to end the game.
My sister, though, was a battle toughened and experienced warrior princess cancer veteran. She fought and fought and fought valiantly, bravely, and tirelessly against the enemy with everything she had and all that was made available to her. She left no stone unturned, and refused to give in and raise the white flag.
During my sister’s last stands, she and her doctors counterattacked time and time again, and struck back with cutting edge medical technology, assistance, and big time, heavy duty pharmaceutical drugs. My sister, the born fighter that she was, was also blessed with an innate and natural resiliency and indomitable will, so she was a formidable opponent to say the least from the very get-go.
More than anything, though, my sister was the single most courageous person I have ever known. She fought on against virtually impossible odds, and subjected herself to painful and brutal therapies and surgeries that no one ever, ever should have to go through for any reason.
This courage of hers, this strength of hers, this love of self, family, friends, and life that she was so heavily armed with has humbled me time and time again. I can barely even conceive of such single-minded dedication and spirit she exhibited on a daily basis, even during the inevitable low times and bad moments.
By and through my sister’s example, through her courage, through her desire to simply live and remain a viable part of her family and this world, I have learned much, and experienced emotions, thoughts, and feelings that I simply did not know could even or ever exist.
Although my sister’s fire has been prematurely extinguished in the physical world, my own inner fire now shines more brightly than it ever has before, and it continues to grow daily.
A couple of years ago, after witnessing my sister go through the most horrific surgery I could imagine, and subjecting herself to that willfully and with hope, that was the beginning of the end of the lies for me.
Although I did not know it at the time, and did not recognize it for what it was, I was dying inside myself, and had been dying inside for quite some time. I was all wrong on the inner and the outer side. I was just plain wrong period. I was also in massive denial and suppression. I was literally standing, unwittingly and unknowingly so, before the gates of massive depression and breakdown that would ultimately lead me to serious thoughts of suicide.
But despite it all, despite the inner war that I was waging (and losing decidedly) against my self, my being, and my very identity, my sister managed all by herself to do something for me that I could not. Through the actions of the hero that she was, she gifted me with both hope and strength. This hope and strength took much work to cultivate, develop, and grow, but gift me these important and life-changing qualities she did.
I mean, the thing is that my sister, my dear, dear precious baby sister, was fighting for her life, and enduring challenges and battles that I could not ever even begin to imagine taking on or experiencing. So the least I could do, the absolute very least I could do, was do for myself what my sister so bravely attempted to do for herself – and that was to improve, live, and make real my life.
My sister was my wake-up call. She was my mentor. She taught me the value and lesson of hope and life.
Before my sister came to my rescue through her fights, my previous life just wasn’t working. My previously life, in fact, and I know this now for the truth it was, was doomed to failure from the very beginning. I was, after all, living an absolute and complete lie. I was inauthentic. I was not true to myself. I deceived not only the world, but I deceived myself. I gave into my fear, the fear I so unwittingly and cowardly allowed to fester and grow beyond sanity, and I deceived myself.
And living in fear is no proper place to live. Living in fear, being too afraid to be yourself, being too afraid to admit to yourself who and what you really are is nothing short of and tantamount to living a tragic existence.
My sister, the blessed angel looking over me that she now is, gifted me life. She taught me the value of self. She showed through her spirit the value of opportunity. Through her life, through her battles, I have learned that we cannot take tomorrow for granted. Nor can we take ourselves for granted.
I could not be more proud of my sister, and how she lived her life. She was the first family member I came out to as transsexual. She did not even hesitate in offering me her support, kindness, and compassion. Her unconditional love for me grew all the more that I was able to share this with her two years ago. Our already super tight and close relationship was cemented even further.
There is nothing my sister would not have done for me, and there is nothing that I would not do for her. In so giving me her blessing to be me, she also let it known time and time again how proud she was of me that I was and am working affirmatively and positively towards a true, authentic existence and life, as scary as that proposition is.
That I had it in me to earn my sister’s pride is no small thing to me, and means more than I am able to express in mere words. My younger sister, my baby sister is my hero and she was my teacher. She has made me possible through the love, genuineness, and beauty that her life represented, and all that she gave to those around her.
I owe her much. I owe my sister so very, very much, and my love for her is without bounds.
I know my sister will always be with me. She resides deeply within my heart, and I shall never, ever forget the positive influence and deep impact she had on my life.
I love you, Sandy. I love you to absolute death and beyond. Somehow, someway, we shall be reunited again.
Thank you for all that you have done for me, and all that you have gifted me. I have much hope, much love, and much strength in my heart because of you. You have made me a better person, and helped me to believe when I was ready to give up on everything.
Rest in peace, my dear, lovely, amazing, wonderful, magnificent sister.
Rest in peace, Sandy.
With all of my love and faith, I shall see you later, baby . . . .
My sister, 41 years old and the mother of a sweet, innocent, beautiful three year old little girl, finally lost her ten year war against cancer.
My sister, although she had won 3 previous and hard fought battles against the enemy throughout the years, could not defeat the scourge a fourth time.
The cancer came back too strong this time. It was brutally, effectively, and efficiently powerful. It became and evolved quickly into an overwhelming and unstoppable force, and engaged heavily, unfairly, and without mercy in guerilla warfare tactics designed to weaken and destroy my sister’s body, brain, mind, and will. The cancer held nothing back this time, absolutely nothing, and it went for the hardcore decisive kill to end the game.
My sister, though, was a battle toughened and experienced warrior princess cancer veteran. She fought and fought and fought valiantly, bravely, and tirelessly against the enemy with everything she had and all that was made available to her. She left no stone unturned, and refused to give in and raise the white flag.
During my sister’s last stands, she and her doctors counterattacked time and time again, and struck back with cutting edge medical technology, assistance, and big time, heavy duty pharmaceutical drugs. My sister, the born fighter that she was, was also blessed with an innate and natural resiliency and indomitable will, so she was a formidable opponent to say the least from the very get-go.
More than anything, though, my sister was the single most courageous person I have ever known. She fought on against virtually impossible odds, and subjected herself to painful and brutal therapies and surgeries that no one ever, ever should have to go through for any reason.
This courage of hers, this strength of hers, this love of self, family, friends, and life that she was so heavily armed with has humbled me time and time again. I can barely even conceive of such single-minded dedication and spirit she exhibited on a daily basis, even during the inevitable low times and bad moments.
By and through my sister’s example, through her courage, through her desire to simply live and remain a viable part of her family and this world, I have learned much, and experienced emotions, thoughts, and feelings that I simply did not know could even or ever exist.
Although my sister’s fire has been prematurely extinguished in the physical world, my own inner fire now shines more brightly than it ever has before, and it continues to grow daily.
A couple of years ago, after witnessing my sister go through the most horrific surgery I could imagine, and subjecting herself to that willfully and with hope, that was the beginning of the end of the lies for me.
Although I did not know it at the time, and did not recognize it for what it was, I was dying inside myself, and had been dying inside for quite some time. I was all wrong on the inner and the outer side. I was just plain wrong period. I was also in massive denial and suppression. I was literally standing, unwittingly and unknowingly so, before the gates of massive depression and breakdown that would ultimately lead me to serious thoughts of suicide.
But despite it all, despite the inner war that I was waging (and losing decidedly) against my self, my being, and my very identity, my sister managed all by herself to do something for me that I could not. Through the actions of the hero that she was, she gifted me with both hope and strength. This hope and strength took much work to cultivate, develop, and grow, but gift me these important and life-changing qualities she did.
I mean, the thing is that my sister, my dear, dear precious baby sister, was fighting for her life, and enduring challenges and battles that I could not ever even begin to imagine taking on or experiencing. So the least I could do, the absolute very least I could do, was do for myself what my sister so bravely attempted to do for herself – and that was to improve, live, and make real my life.
My sister was my wake-up call. She was my mentor. She taught me the value and lesson of hope and life.
Before my sister came to my rescue through her fights, my previous life just wasn’t working. My previously life, in fact, and I know this now for the truth it was, was doomed to failure from the very beginning. I was, after all, living an absolute and complete lie. I was inauthentic. I was not true to myself. I deceived not only the world, but I deceived myself. I gave into my fear, the fear I so unwittingly and cowardly allowed to fester and grow beyond sanity, and I deceived myself.
And living in fear is no proper place to live. Living in fear, being too afraid to be yourself, being too afraid to admit to yourself who and what you really are is nothing short of and tantamount to living a tragic existence.
My sister, the blessed angel looking over me that she now is, gifted me life. She taught me the value of self. She showed through her spirit the value of opportunity. Through her life, through her battles, I have learned that we cannot take tomorrow for granted. Nor can we take ourselves for granted.
I could not be more proud of my sister, and how she lived her life. She was the first family member I came out to as transsexual. She did not even hesitate in offering me her support, kindness, and compassion. Her unconditional love for me grew all the more that I was able to share this with her two years ago. Our already super tight and close relationship was cemented even further.
There is nothing my sister would not have done for me, and there is nothing that I would not do for her. In so giving me her blessing to be me, she also let it known time and time again how proud she was of me that I was and am working affirmatively and positively towards a true, authentic existence and life, as scary as that proposition is.
That I had it in me to earn my sister’s pride is no small thing to me, and means more than I am able to express in mere words. My younger sister, my baby sister is my hero and she was my teacher. She has made me possible through the love, genuineness, and beauty that her life represented, and all that she gave to those around her.
I owe her much. I owe my sister so very, very much, and my love for her is without bounds.
I know my sister will always be with me. She resides deeply within my heart, and I shall never, ever forget the positive influence and deep impact she had on my life.
I love you, Sandy. I love you to absolute death and beyond. Somehow, someway, we shall be reunited again.
Thank you for all that you have done for me, and all that you have gifted me. I have much hope, much love, and much strength in my heart because of you. You have made me a better person, and helped me to believe when I was ready to give up on everything.
Rest in peace, my dear, lovely, amazing, wonderful, magnificent sister.
Rest in peace, Sandy.
With all of my love and faith, I shall see you later, baby . . . .