My oldest sister died today. Minae was only 53. Her 54th birthday is just over a month away. She didn't make it that far. Complications of Stage IV Pancreatic Cancer eventually took away her last breath. I miss her. That will never change until I see her again.
The end of January was busy for me. I had agreed to be the PTA member in charge of the elementary school spelling bee. The tense event was just getting started when I got a text from my brother-in-law stating he'd taken my oldest sister to the ER with severe abdominal pain. Something inside me sank. But, I had to deal with the circumstances at hand (the all-intimidating spelling bee- oooh), so I'd have to process those thoughts and feeling later.
For the next week or so, our whole family was on pins and needles, waiting to find out what was really wrong with our dear Minae. The "C" word was thrown out there, but we were all under the impression that if that was it, things weren't too bad. But one day, my husband got the news before I did. He kindly and chivalrously took me into our room to tell me the worst had become reality. Minae had Stage IV Pancreatic Cancer. My head swam. Between my own son and a brother-in-law in Boise, hadn't cancer wreaked enough havoc on our family, at least for a while?! And so the mourning for a beloved sister began.
It took a bit for Minae to say the word, "cancer," herself. She taught choir at a charter high school. it wasn't long before she found sufficient courage to go in front of all her classes and tell them herself why she was so ill. She finally found the gutts to use that all-scary word, "cancer." She even had the where with all to tell them it was terminal. How she was able to look them straight in the face- these young and impressionable teenagers who found a worthy mentor and friend in their teacher- and say that, I'll never know.
I remember talking to her not long after her grim diagnosis. She'd said all along she was going to fight it. Anyone who knows anything about pancreatic cancer knows it's one of the worst and chances of survival are super slim. I found a gentle way of asking her why she wanted to fight it. I'll never forget her answer. She told me she'd always known that when her time to die came, she'd be ready and she'd be satisfied with her life's work. She didn't feel that way yet. So she went forth, searching for a cancer center that would meet her needs. She was ready to wage a losing battle with fists flying and full gusto. Wow.
Being a state away, I was never really aware of the details regarding the process in finding the right cancer care center. All I heard was that the one she chose was stellar. She'd not only have an oncologist, but a nurse, nutritionist, and 2 other specialists I can't remember. They were that amazing. She seemed quite satisfied with how they treated her.
Then word came of how sick chemotherapy made her. Her previously healthy and strong body was discovered to be extremely sensitive to medications. The woman who loved to cook and experiment in the kitchen no longer found pleasure in eating and hardly anything was palatable anymore. Everything seemed to make her sick, from pain medicine, to chemotherapy. She had an anti-nausea patch, a pain patch, everyone was trying to get her to eat something. How her head must have been swimming. All. The. Time.
And yet she found a way to serve. She called me one day when she was lucid. She actually wanted to hear about the silly and what I found to be unfair negotiations in the selling of my house. Like it even mattered! But she listened intently and was genuinely interested in what I had to say. I shared with her my insignificant frustrations with moving while cocking my phone with my shoulder since I was fixing my son's bike at the same time. Here she was giving me her full attention and I was trying to multitask. She didn't care. That was Minae.
She allowed people to serve her. Friends and family came in droves. Here was a woman who had served her church and community with all her heart, no reservations. All were eager to serve her in return. Flowers arrived. Visitors came and wore her out (her energy slowly waned). Calls, texts, fundraisers, etc. There was no shortage of those who wanted to show their love to her through service. And she let them. She felt their strength. She felt their prayers lift and sustain her. In such a wretched and seemingly hopeless situation, there was remarkable beauty and hope.
When visitors came, they always left lifted and better than when they arrived, even if she'd let them wear her out. Fellow musicians would come and sing to her. Sometimes I'd call and just have Mom hold the phone up to her ear so she could listen (she'd eventually reached a point where energy to respond had faded). And I know I'm not the only one. Cousins and family members from miles away traveled for a chance to be with Minae one last time. And Minae hung on. She let us all say our "goodbyes." She let her adult daughters rub her down to prevent bed sores and administer medications at all hours of the night. She let us see her all wasted away to literally skin and bones and still found a way to do it with flare and her typical classy style. Even when only a faint shadow of her remained, it was still 100% Minae.
Weeks before her passing she sent her only son back out on his LDS mission. Both knew they'd never see each other in this life again. The level of courage and selflessness both my sister and nephew displayed is beyond my level to comprehend. My sister who'd struggled to get pregnant, who'd had a tubal pregnancy burst and almost died because of it, who only bore 2 children herself, was willing to let her son go to serve God when she could have justifiably demanded he stay close for just a bit more. That act alone, I believe, put her on Heaven's list of saints.
Now she suffers no more. We, who had the pleasure to know her, are left with much to live up to. Was she perfect? No. She was just as human as the rest of us. But she was Minae, and no one else. She loved. She served. She tried. She let Life teach her wisdom. She bore her burdens with grace and let God help her with them as He saw fit (and she had many). May we all do our upmost to be strong in Christ, like Minae.
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