My sister’s name was Lisa. She had sparkling blueeyes, flaming red hair, and a smile that reflected her genuine, yet truly mischievous, nature.
Her arrival turned us into a family of five that included my parents, my younger brother Mark, and me. While growing up, my sister and I discovered we had a lot of things in common. Besides a voracious appetite for reading and learning, we also shared an interest in singing; we sang together in the Morinville Church Choir and belted out Christmas tunes at every midnight mass for five consecutive years. Later on, Lisa became a strong youth advocate and a supportive counselor at a youth centre she helped to found. You could say Lisa was more than just a sister to me; she was a friend and a soulmate.
Lisa and I shared a further common bond in that we were both adopted. When Lisa arrived, she was immediately loved by all. As her older brother of seven years, I still fondly remember the day we went to the hospital to pick up my “little sister”. I was in Grade 1 at the time and was given the afternoon off to wait at my grandparents’ place while Mom and Dad collected the new addition to our family. As my parents were leaving for the hospital, I remember my dad saying, “I don’t care what colour of hair she has, as long as it’s not red—those redheads are trouble.” Several hours later, they returned with a tiny bundle swaddled in a think pink felt blanket. Mark and I leaned in to see our new sister, and when my mom pulled back the cover, all we could see was a head full of flaming red hair! I looked up at my dad only to see that he was already completely smitten.
We lost Lisa on Thursday, May 29, 1997, the same day as Dad’s 50th birthday. I had just returned to Canada twelve days before, after traveling for several months through Southeast Asia. Upon hearing the news that Lisa was in the hospital, I rushed to meet the rest of my family there. My brother and father surrounded me and told me the devastating news. Lisa had passed away in the ambulance ride to the hospital, after she had collapsed at her desk while speaking to a client on the phone at work earlier that morning. Medical science has no explanation for why Lisa died. I continue to draw strength and inspiration from my parents who have unfairly lost four children, three of whom were in their infancy.
Lisa was gone before the next phase of her life could begin. The weekend before her unexpected death, she was to move out into her own apartment in Morinville. After taking a year off after high school to work, Lisa had just enrolled in the Early Childhood Development program at MacEwan College and would have started courses that fall.To mark her tragic death, we created a modest scholarship at Morinville Community High School, where Lisa graduated, from donated funds collected at her funeral.
When I decided to train for the 2007 Ironman Canada in fall 2006, I realized I had a deeply compelling reason to take on the crazy challenges of this 140.6-mile swim, bike, run feat. I wanted to do more than just swim 3.8K, bike 180K, and run 42K; I wanted to raise 1,000 units of $140.6 each (the exact mileage of the Ironman) towards a foundation in Lisa’s name not to mark her death, but to mark here life. On the tenth anniversary of Lisa’s passing, I have chosen to take on this significant personal challenge to commemorate Lisa’s life, her achievements, her passion for life, her gift for reaching out to others and making a difference. This Ironman Triathlon is for Lisa.
Please help me to honour the memory of my sister, Lisa, by donating a unit, a fraction of a unit, or multiple units by clicking on the button on the right to make a donation. Your tax-deductible contributions will be divided equally among three different charities that reflect Lisa’s life interests: Centre for Family Literacy, MacEwan (Early Childhood Development Program) and the Sexual Assault Centre of Edmonton.
