With each new medication, there was hope.
It is those dark moments, when all the doors are closed, that as a caregiver, all I prayed for was an answer.
At times I had to become a warrior for the benefit of my sister. With all the passion I possessed, and all the strength I didn’t know I had, I pushed forward or back – whatever was required – because she couldn’t.
The ‘tradition’ in my family was to camouflage this illness as something ‘acceptable’ to the outside world. Denial holds a person tight within a facade, unable to be portrayed as they truly exist.
Every waking minute, as a caregiver, my sister was the focus of my thoughts.
As a caregiver, I had to decide the attitude of our shared future. Would I help my sister live with this disease, or die from it?
A completely honest emotion. My sister was 16 years younger than I, and as adults we lived different lives. When she moved in with us, I saw my life change completely. As I pulled away the curtain which was my facade, I had to admit I held anger in my heart.
That sharp moment in time that defines the future.
Kelly was forever my hero. Soon after her passing, I sat in front of my easel and envisioned what she looked like. This painting was the genesis of my visual dialog.