Barbara and Marilyn
Left
to right: Barbara and Marilyn
By Marilyn, a participant from Oklahoma
Shared rooms, shared secrets, shared joy, shared sorrow. She was 57. I am 57.
Oldest daughter, Barbara Diane, was a beautiful girl. She had the brightest, dazzling smile so mature past her years. Gifted artistically, loving selflessly, she had center-stage for two years until I showed up. Becoming the “Me, too!” girl, it was apparent she was my Wonder Woman — her moving piano playing and incredible paintings wowed me through life; her creativity and gifted eye became one of her life’s missions through her home design and décor business. She remained my hero until breast cancer took her from us February 7, 2006.
Barbara processed difficult childhood memories and health issues through counseling and healed with grace, mercy, and personal spiritual growth only a person of abundant belief and trust can experience. My big sister was my protector…and, again, my hero.
Mom, Barb and I traveled to Tennessee to seek out our estranged youngest sister in October 2004. It was on this extremely emotional journey that Barbara discovered a lump and thought to herself, “Hmmmm. When I get home, I need to get that checked.” She did not burden Mom or me with the discovery — I am sure she was protecting me yet again.
Upon returning home, Barb was diagnosed with the most aggressive, invasive breast cancer known. Eternally the optimist and faithful follower, Barbara powered through dangerous and ground-breaking double mastectomy, chemo and radiation treatments, physical therapy, and double-knee replacement. Barb and her husband even hosted Christmas for our extended family in 2005. She was the usual perfect hostess, full of life bubbling over. She seemed healed, enjoying her new knees and determined focus of getting healthier.
To spare the sorrow of details, within 50 days she was gone. So, it is with honor and privilege I am able to remember her beautiful life through the Sister Study. Somehow it feels empowering in a totally powerless situation. And, as painful as it is to continue through life without my beautiful, adoring, protective sister, I am grateful for the opportunity to hopefully one day help another sister not lose hers.
In loving memory of Barbara Hepner Cravens