Remembering Ro

There is lots of research and articles that suggest that boys need heroes and that it is important for them to have role models that help shape what it means to be boys and men.  I think that we all need heroes,  people we can look up to, admire and try to emulate.  I had such a person in my life, who helped shape me and define me for years.  Four years ago today, she died.  She was my sister, my best friend, my mom mentor and my hero.

She was my hero long before she was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, before she was radiated, before she lost a large part of her leg to remove the tumour.  She was my hero well before she took her first faltering steps after the surgery, and kept pressing on.  She was my hero before she endured months of aggressive, horrible chemotherapy.  She was my hero before the cancer moved into her lungs and she endured more surgery.  She was my hero before it moved into her brain and she gave us permission then to cry.  She was my hero before she signed up for experimental treatments that she knew were too late for her but might help someone else.  She was my hero well before she was taken by ambulance for one of these treatments a few weeks before she died, too weak and in too much pain to walk.  She was my hero before I saw her the morning  she died and wiped a tear from her closed eyes.  She was my hero before she taught us to die well and with absolute dignity. She was my hero and she never asked “why me”.

She was my hero when we shared a room growing up and shared our dreams and our doubts and our fears.  She was my hero when she helped me be better than I otherwise would have been.  She was my hero when she worked on the oncology ward at Sick Kids and helped to heal babies and children and families dealing with cancer.  She was my hero when she stood up to the administration and spoke out on behalf of her colleagues.  She was my hero when she became a midwife and championed mothers and babies and choices and education.  She was my hero as she  mothered her own children and supported them and their choices.  She was my hero when she walked in protest and walked to support Cancer research.  She was my hero when she stood up for gay rights and turned against a church that didn’t.

She was a hero to me when she said her body had done the most important job, bringing her two babies into the world.  She was my hero when she danced with wild abandon, and dressed up in crazy outfits.  She was my hero when she celebrated life and living and brought her passion and spirit to everything she did.  She was my hero when she was there for every meaningful moment of my life as a friend, a sister, a coach and a witness.  She was my hero because she cared passionately about being human and humanity.  She was my hero because she was compassionate, intelligent, funny, tenacious, principled, courageous, daring, unwavering and unafraid.  She was and always will be my sister, my best friend and my hero.