My Cousin Died At 8 And She Saved My Life

My cousin, Marsha, died on March 2, 1983. I was six years old and I can still hear her laugh, 39 years later. Her life was far from easy, but she was so happy and content. I never saw her cry or complain about the endless medical procedures she endured. She was so full of love and acceptance, especially for me.

Marsha had a rare neurological disorder. It was so rare; they named it after her, only affecting 10 people worldwide. Because it was such a rare disease, it limited her treatment options.

She Met Me As A Damaged Abused Child

When I went to live with her family and my grandmother, CPS had just removed me from my mother's care. My mother and her husband, a former cop, had abused me so severely I was grossly underweight and not trusting of anyone.

I had cigarette burns all over my body. My extended belly craved food, as my mother didn't feed me. I didn't trust anyone because the one person I should be able to trust, my mother, was my abuser.

My grandma and aunt gave me time before bombarding me with attention. CPS warned them too much attention could scare me. So, they gave me time to get used to my new surroundings.

Marsha did not follow their lead. When they brought me home, at the age of 4, she grabbed me and gave me the biggest hug. I can still remember that moment. Her hug was exactly what I needed. She told me I am now her sister and she will never let anyone hurt me again.

That comment meant so much to me. I immediately felt a connection to her, and I wanted to protect her, too. But I couldn't save her as her disease progressed, and it forced her to use a wheelchair.

Marsha's Love Saved Me

As a child, that experienced so much loss, having a sister was exactly what I needed. My father died when I was 2, with my best friend, grandpa, dying a year after him. If that wasn't enough trauma, CPS removed me from my mother's home and terminated her parental rights. All of this happened in the span of four years.

When I was 6, my grandma sat me down to tell me Marsha was finally coming home from the hospital after a three-month stay. But she would never get better. She was going to go to be with Jesus very soon.

I remember thinking I needed her. Jesus didn't. He had all the people in the entire world. Why would he take the one person I needed? It made no sense to me. In many ways, 39 years later, it still makes little sense to me.

Years later, my grandma told me a story about Marsha's last night in the hospital. Her mother stepped out of her room to talk to hospice and asked a student nurse to monitor her from the nurses' station. The nurse told my aunt later she saw a bright light in her room.

Marsha told us an angel visited her and said they will come for her soon. She needs to spend as much time with her family. For her, it wasn't a terrifying thought. She knew she would be okay. But she worried about me. She worried I wouldn't be okay without her.

On March 2, 1981, grandma brought me into her room. She had a hospital bed with an oxygen tent. I climbed into the tent and held her hand. She told me she loved me and I would always be her 'Chrissie Pants,' and she would be with me, walking alongside me. But her body is growing weak, and it's almost time for her to go to heaven.

I sang to her while holding her hand. I did not know this would be the last time I would spend time with her. We laid there for hours. I ended up falling asleep with her, and upon waking I learned she died.

I felt numb and didn't know what I should feel. My best friend, sister, and the best human I had ever met, was now dead. Home didn't feel safe anymore. But slowly, home felt better. Marsha died, but she left me a gift. She taught me to love.

The Gift

Marsha taught me to love myself and others. She taught me to value and trust my family. Without her, I don't know if I would have ever trusted another person. To her, I was a beautiful person, who is full of life. Marsha didn't see the abused child. She didn't see how I felt unworthy of her love. She just loved me because I was family.

She changed my life. After she passed away, I grew closer to my grandma. We developed an unbreakable bond. There are times I think about Marsha, and how close we would be now. I try not to think about it too much, as it hurts too much. It makes me question why God would take her from us when we all needed her.

I will always feel grateful that I knew Marsha and how she changed my life. I learned life isn't fair and sometimes good people die. Her legacy was love. She showed everyone love and taught us how to be positive even in tough times.

Even writing this, I whispered to my sweet sister, "You are gone from this world, but never forgotten. Fly with the angels, and one day, we'll be together again."

When you lose someone like I did, it changes you. I continue to honor her by living my life by loving others. I can tell you this; I am so grateful Marsha chose me as her sister. Without her love, I don't think I would be the person I am today.