It was only a few short hours ago that I learned that my sister Karen passed away. Over the last two years or so Karen’s body began to betray her, first with low platelet production and then with breast cancer. She had been ongoing various cancer and platelet treatments but with little to show for it. As the pain spread so did Karen’s fear that she was not going to be a cancer survivor. Still, neither her nor her doctor were ready to give up trying until just this past weekend, when she was admitted to the hospital because her breath was labored and her body pain was intense. It was only last night that she made the courageous decision to tell her doctor that she was ready to change her care from treatment to hospice so that she could live out the remainder of her days at home and without pain. She knew death was imminent, but she seemed to have made piece with that. In her words: “I’m don’t know if I’m ready, but I know that I’m not not ready.”
Karen was born three days before my first birthday, my first birthday present. From that day afterward we were in many ways joined together and in many ways very different. Except for three years we attended the same school at the same time. We were in band together at Mater Dei, starting with beginning band my sophomore and her freshman year and ending with wind ensemble her junior and my senior year. She used to complain that the teachers we had in common would always ask about me and compare her to me. I do know, though, that there was at least one teacher, Ms. Kearney at Mater Dei, who liked Karen way more than she did me. Come to think of it, I would guess that our band director at Mater Dei, Mr. Corrigan, probably liked Karen a lot more than me too.
Unlike me, Karen was very artistic. She had a natural gift for writing, drawing, and music. Her blog, http://www.lilhateful.com/, was (and still is) clever, witty, and full of a dry humor, even when she was suffering from cancer. I remember one friend saying that she had never thought she would laugh about cancer until she read Karen’s posts. As a kid she used to draw little cartoon figures, cut them out, and tape them to things. I have in front of me an old Taster’s Choice coffee jar with two of those figures taped on to it that I found in a long ago disposed nightstand that used to be in her bedroom.
One year my parents bought her a little electronic Casio keyboard that she would play constantly; so much that we ended up buying her headphones so that we wouldn't have to listen to it so much. She had an amazing ability to play a song that she had heard on the radio only once or twice. Then in high school she was one of the few people to ever transfer from beginning band to wind ensemble in just one year because of her skills with the bells and her ability to learn to play the oboe in just a couple of months. Her skills with the bells also earned her a spot on the competition drum line, which allowed me the use of the family van since my parents didn't want her to come home alone in the dark after all the late drum line practices.
Karen was a free spirit who formed her own path in life. She was the first of us kids to live independent from our parents. She acquired the nickname of “Cheese Lady” in our high school band and took it as a complement. And she always wore that grey felt fedora to high school and on all our band trips. I sometimes wonder whatever happened to that hat. She was the only person I knew who got accepted to 3 different universities but only attended 1 semester of classes, until she succumbed to the peer pressure from her cousin and friends and enrolled in the University of Oregon as a journalism major. This time she made it all the way through and graduated. I could not have been more proud of her accomplishment.
I always teased Karen about being a book snob; how her taste in literature was more Umberto Eco and less John Grisham. She thought that Grisham was a hack but later admitted that he did develop some good stories, poorly written as they may be. Her taste in music was equally eclectic. It was Karen who turned me on to U2 in the early 80’s, only to dismiss U2 when they became popular. It was the same with R.E.M. I remember she bought Van Halen's 1984 album because of the synthesizers and then gave it to me when she quickly got bored with it. I still have that album. I also remember how excited she got when Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” came on the radio, not because she liked the song or Michael Jackson but because she liked Vincent Price’s narrative at the end.
Of course we had our share of sibling rivalries. There were the frequent fights over the TV remote and the middle seat in the car, the day she hit with in the face with a baseball bat, and the day that I demanded that she get out of the car a city block away from our house. But I never felt any long simmering anger towards Karen, and I don’t think she ever felt any towards me despite her being the middle child. I have to admit though that I was always jealous of the fact that she had her own bedroom when I had to share mine with my brother up until high school.
What I will remember most about my sister is her honesty. She was my rock; she was the one I turned to in times of trouble and confusion for honest advice. She did not mince words and did not shy away from telling me the truth. When I was interested in a girl that she knew I would ask Karen if the girl and I would be a fit or not and she would tell me straight out what she thought, and she was spot on with her analysis.
Some of you may remember that I was once engaged to be married. About 5 months before our expected wedding date my fiancée began to stop returning my phone calls and started backing out of dates. Frustrated and worried that something was wrong, I called Karen for advice. Pretty much anyone else that I could have called would have probably told me that everything would be fine and that eventually my fiancée and I would be back on solid ground. Not Karen though, she told me that she thought my fiancée wanted to break off our engagement and that I should be prepared for that. 5 days later that is exactly what happened.
Karen was the most honest person that I have ever known and probably ever will know. That honesty is what I will miss most of all. I will also miss our Fourth of July weekends together. There will never be another July 4 or March 1 that I will not think about Karen and all the times we shared. I take comfort in knowing that she is no longer in pain and that she is now in a much better place than the Springfield hospital bed that I last saw her in. But I will miss her in ways that go beyond words. My last words to her were that I loved her very much. She was asleep at the time but she did stir a little, so maybe she heard me. One day I hope to ask her if she did.
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou are not so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, though dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me;
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and souls deliver.
Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppie, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better then thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.
- John Donne
Karen was born three days before my first birthday, my first birthday present. From that day afterward we were in many ways joined together and in many ways very different. Except for three years we attended the same school at the same time. We were in band together at Mater Dei, starting with beginning band my sophomore and her freshman year and ending with wind ensemble her junior and my senior year. She used to complain that the teachers we had in common would always ask about me and compare her to me. I do know, though, that there was at least one teacher, Ms. Kearney at Mater Dei, who liked Karen way more than she did me. Come to think of it, I would guess that our band director at Mater Dei, Mr. Corrigan, probably liked Karen a lot more than me too.
Unlike me, Karen was very artistic. She had a natural gift for writing, drawing, and music. Her blog, http://www.lilhateful.com/, was (and still is) clever, witty, and full of a dry humor, even when she was suffering from cancer. I remember one friend saying that she had never thought she would laugh about cancer until she read Karen’s posts. As a kid she used to draw little cartoon figures, cut them out, and tape them to things. I have in front of me an old Taster’s Choice coffee jar with two of those figures taped on to it that I found in a long ago disposed nightstand that used to be in her bedroom.
One year my parents bought her a little electronic Casio keyboard that she would play constantly; so much that we ended up buying her headphones so that we wouldn't have to listen to it so much. She had an amazing ability to play a song that she had heard on the radio only once or twice. Then in high school she was one of the few people to ever transfer from beginning band to wind ensemble in just one year because of her skills with the bells and her ability to learn to play the oboe in just a couple of months. Her skills with the bells also earned her a spot on the competition drum line, which allowed me the use of the family van since my parents didn't want her to come home alone in the dark after all the late drum line practices.
Karen was a free spirit who formed her own path in life. She was the first of us kids to live independent from our parents. She acquired the nickname of “Cheese Lady” in our high school band and took it as a complement. And she always wore that grey felt fedora to high school and on all our band trips. I sometimes wonder whatever happened to that hat. She was the only person I knew who got accepted to 3 different universities but only attended 1 semester of classes, until she succumbed to the peer pressure from her cousin and friends and enrolled in the University of Oregon as a journalism major. This time she made it all the way through and graduated. I could not have been more proud of her accomplishment.
I always teased Karen about being a book snob; how her taste in literature was more Umberto Eco and less John Grisham. She thought that Grisham was a hack but later admitted that he did develop some good stories, poorly written as they may be. Her taste in music was equally eclectic. It was Karen who turned me on to U2 in the early 80’s, only to dismiss U2 when they became popular. It was the same with R.E.M. I remember she bought Van Halen's 1984 album because of the synthesizers and then gave it to me when she quickly got bored with it. I still have that album. I also remember how excited she got when Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” came on the radio, not because she liked the song or Michael Jackson but because she liked Vincent Price’s narrative at the end.
Of course we had our share of sibling rivalries. There were the frequent fights over the TV remote and the middle seat in the car, the day she hit with in the face with a baseball bat, and the day that I demanded that she get out of the car a city block away from our house. But I never felt any long simmering anger towards Karen, and I don’t think she ever felt any towards me despite her being the middle child. I have to admit though that I was always jealous of the fact that she had her own bedroom when I had to share mine with my brother up until high school.
What I will remember most about my sister is her honesty. She was my rock; she was the one I turned to in times of trouble and confusion for honest advice. She did not mince words and did not shy away from telling me the truth. When I was interested in a girl that she knew I would ask Karen if the girl and I would be a fit or not and she would tell me straight out what she thought, and she was spot on with her analysis.
Some of you may remember that I was once engaged to be married. About 5 months before our expected wedding date my fiancée began to stop returning my phone calls and started backing out of dates. Frustrated and worried that something was wrong, I called Karen for advice. Pretty much anyone else that I could have called would have probably told me that everything would be fine and that eventually my fiancée and I would be back on solid ground. Not Karen though, she told me that she thought my fiancée wanted to break off our engagement and that I should be prepared for that. 5 days later that is exactly what happened.
Karen was the most honest person that I have ever known and probably ever will know. That honesty is what I will miss most of all. I will also miss our Fourth of July weekends together. There will never be another July 4 or March 1 that I will not think about Karen and all the times we shared. I take comfort in knowing that she is no longer in pain and that she is now in a much better place than the Springfield hospital bed that I last saw her in. But I will miss her in ways that go beyond words. My last words to her were that I loved her very much. She was asleep at the time but she did stir a little, so maybe she heard me. One day I hope to ask her if she did.
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou are not so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, though dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me;
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and souls deliver.
Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppie, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better then thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.
- John Donne
