It has been a little over six months since my sister Helen passed away—a day so painful it is forever etched in our minds and hearts. While this profound loss in our family’s lives will be forever felt, we know full well Helen wouldn’t want us focused on our grief and pain. As hard as it is—and always will be—she would want us to remember the immense love and happiness she brought to our lives, the crazy, fun things we did together, and the precious moments we shared. Although our lives will never be the same without her, we’ll get there eventually; it’s just going to take some time. Although she was with us for many years and we are grateful for them all, it was nowhere near long enough.
Helen was married to my brother, Mike, for close to 45 years. When they married, she became my sister, full stop. The term “In-law” could never reflect the love and admiration I had, and will always have, for her. Coming from a family with just one brother, joining our large family gave her plenty of opportunity to practice legendary patience—especially with her new little sister, me!
I can’t count the number of times Helen and Mike stepped up to help me over the years, including providing a bed and a room whenever I needed it. I said to Mike after she passed away that she must have eventually grown tired of his little sister at some point, and his response was, “Never.” Helen was always that rock in my life. I didn’t know it at the time, but I think when she said “I do” to my brother, she said it forever to all of us, too.
Helen was brilliant and had an incredible sense of humor, but her compassion and kindness toward others were truly unparalleled. She remembered every birthday, every special occasion, and each medical appointment that was meaningful in the lives of those she cared deeply for—always sending that note of celebration or checking in afterward to make sure we were okay.
Helen lived a life of service, always focused on others. It wasn't until after she passed away that we discovered the true depth of the gentle superhero among us—someone who was quietly making a massive difference in the lives of strangers while remaining humble and fiercely private about her generosity. Six months later, we are still profoundly moved by stories that continue to surface. She wasn’t just “our Helen” as it turned out; she was everyone’s Helen.
About two weeks before she died, we went out to celebrate several family birthdays with Helen and the “other outlaw,” Andy. Helen insisted on paying, and as sick as she was, no one knew her suffering. We had a wonderful meal and went our separate ways. I saw her a couple of days later, and she pushed a significant amount of cash into my hand. Despite the medication she was on and how she was feeling, she was worried she hadn't tipped the waitress enough. She made me promise to deliver it—to someone she would never see again. She was unbelievable like that. When I got to the restaurant and shared the story of how Helen insisted she be appreciated, the server and I both cried and hugged. Even in her final days, Helen made sure that server felt important.
Helen was that once-in-a-lifetime person that one can never forget, and I am so grateful for all the years side-by-side I was able to share with her. She was my safe place to fall, my unwavering cheerleader, my best friend, and the most incredible role model I could have ever hoped for. As long as I have air in my lungs, I will be saying her name and telling her story to whomever will listen.
If I had one wish for everyone, it would be that they had the opportunity to meet her. But for those who hadn’t, my wish would be that you come across someone in your life who leaves an imprint on your heart so deep that you are never the same after meeting them. That’s what Helen did for me, and for so many others.
She is, and will always be, deeply loved and missed by Mike, Alyssa, her brother John, myself, our family, friends, and countless others whose lives she touched—some of whom she never even met.
Up until the last moments of her life, Helen wasn’t focused on herself. She was focused on her work to bring awareness to women’s heart health and how she could leave the world supporting a cause so important to her. The HeartLife community was a vital part of her journey, and she wanted to be there for others after her passing. Together with HeartLife, Helen ensured a fund was set up to help support heart patients with specific needs. She had witnessed those needs herself and wanted to ensure that long after she was gone, there would be support for future women facing heart issues.
You can help us keep Helen’s vision and spirit alive by contributing and carrying her message on to others: https://heartlife.com/donate
