In Loving Memory of Carolyn
Last Wednesday morning, my niece Cheryl called to tell me that my sister Carolyn had died. It was a shock. She hadn't been ill. She was 85, but incredibly active—working out two hours a day. I always admired that about her.
It was especially hard to hear because Carolyn was the closest in age to me. We were just under ten years apart, and after our sister Lois died last August, I assumed Carolyn would be with us for many more years. We were the only two siblings remaining.
I have so many wonderful memories of her. Carolyn was a majorette in the LB marching band, and I remember how she took the time to teach me how to twirl a baton. One day, I went to the store with my sisters, and Lois bought a new baton for Carolyn. Lois told me not to tell Mom—but of course, being the little sister, I blabbed it as soon as we got home.
When Carolyn first lived and worked in Columbus, she didn’t have a car, so she would take the Greyhound bus home on weekends. Mom, Dad, and I would go to Findlay to pick her up at the bus station. I loved having her sleep in my room—I'd talk nonstop, and she was always such a good listener. She even made clothes for my Shirley Temple doll, which I adored.
She was always there when I needed her. When I had a 4-H sewing project, she helped me with it. And I’ll never forget when she took me to Cedar Point for a few days—we had such fun together. She even booked us a hotel right on the beach.
While I was attending The Ohio State University, I lived with Carolyn and her husband, Bill, and my little niece, Suzanne, rotating between their home and my sister Jean's and her husband Wes's house. They helped me through those two years before I moved closer to campus. When I got strep throat in my junior year, Carolyn picked me up from my rooming house and took care of me. During Finals Week, she even brought a homemade pizza to share with my roommates and me. That’s just who she was—thoughtful, generous, and always showing up.
Carolyn was my matron of honor when Tom and I got married in 1975. I still remember our fun shopping trip to the Lima Mall to find dresses. That whole day was filled with laughter.
When Tom and I had our daughter Sara in 1976, we learned she was born with Down syndrome. That was before the Internet was used as much as it is now, and Carolyn went to the library to research everything she could. She called to share what she had learned—encouraging news about the potential and possibilities for children with Down syndrome. I was 26 and reeling from the discovery that I was a genetic carrier of Translocation Down Syndrome—a very rare condition. Carolyn’s support during that time meant everything. So did the love and care I received from all my siblings. Families are often strongest in a crisis—and sisters especially so. God blessed me with wonderful parents and siblings.
Carolyn was also godmother to our daughter Christina. She always showed up for my family—not just in the big moments, but the everyday ones, too.
We laughed so much—on the phone and during visits. She loved the silly, loving back-and-forth between me and the kids. I just wish we’d had more visits. I really thought we had more time. I find myself thinking of things I want to share with her, only to remember I can’t. That leaves a hole in my heart—but I’m trying to fill it each day with the love and memories we built together.
I love you, Carolyn. I’m so sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. You were such an awesome big sister, always. Tell Mom, Dad, Jean, Lois, and David hello for me,
Last Wednesday morning, my niece Cheryl called to tell me that my sister Carolyn had died. It was a shock. She hadn't been ill. She was 85, but incredibly active—working out two hours a day. I always admired that about her.
It was especially hard to hear because Carolyn was the closest in age to me. We were just under ten years apart, and after our sister Lois died last August, I assumed Carolyn would be with us for many more years. We were the only two siblings remaining.
I have so many wonderful memories of her. Carolyn was a majorette in the LB marching band, and I remember how she took the time to teach me how to twirl a baton. One day, I went to the store with my sisters, and Lois bought a new baton for Carolyn. Lois told me not to tell Mom—but of course, being the little sister, I blabbed it as soon as we got home.
When Carolyn first lived and worked in Columbus, she didn’t have a car, so she would take the Greyhound bus home on weekends. Mom, Dad, and I would go to Findlay to pick her up at the bus station. I loved having her sleep in my room—I'd talk nonstop, and she was always such a good listener. She even made clothes for my Shirley Temple doll, which I adored.
She was always there when I needed her. When I had a 4-H sewing project, she helped me with it. And I’ll never forget when she took me to Cedar Point for a few days—we had such fun together. She even booked us a hotel right on the beach.
While I was attending The Ohio State University, I lived with Carolyn and her husband, Bill, and my little niece, Suzanne, rotating between their home and my sister Jean's and her husband Wes's house. They helped me through those two years before I moved closer to campus. When I got strep throat in my junior year, Carolyn picked me up from my rooming house and took care of me. During Finals Week, she even brought a homemade pizza to share with my roommates and me. That’s just who she was—thoughtful, generous, and always showing up.
Carolyn was my matron of honor when Tom and I got married in 1975. I still remember our fun shopping trip to the Lima Mall to find dresses. That whole day was filled with laughter.
When Tom and I had our daughter Sara in 1976, we learned she was born with Down syndrome. That was before the Internet was used as much as it is now, and Carolyn went to the library to research everything she could. She called to share what she had learned—encouraging news about the potential and possibilities for children with Down syndrome. I was 26 and reeling from the discovery that I was a genetic carrier of Translocation Down Syndrome—a very rare condition. Carolyn’s support during that time meant everything. So did the love and care I received from all my siblings. Families are often strongest in a crisis—and sisters especially so. God blessed me with wonderful parents and siblings.
Carolyn was also godmother to our daughter Christina. She always showed up for my family—not just in the big moments, but the everyday ones, too.
We laughed so much—on the phone and during visits. She loved the silly, loving back-and-forth between me and the kids. I just wish we’d had more visits. I really thought we had more time. I find myself thinking of things I want to share with her, only to remember I can’t. That leaves a hole in my heart—but I’m trying to fill it each day with the love and memories we built together.
I love you, Carolyn. I’m so sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. You were such an awesome big sister, always. Tell Mom, Dad, Jean, Lois, and David hello for me,
 |  |
RSS Feed