Thank You Kenna

On Friday May 28th, 2010, at 3:30 AM, my sister Kenna died. She had been fighting cancer for nearly three years when her time came. Her funeral was held on June 1, and the following piece is what I said at her services. I didn't read from a pre-written paper, only an outline, so it isn't the exact wording, but it's as best as I can remember.



Each of you knows a different version of Kenna. Whether she was a relative or friend, classmate, co-worker, or neighbor, we all have our own unique memories and experiences. But I am the only one who called her big sister. I’m supposed to make you laugh today, so I’m going to share with you some things from my perspective and things my big sister taught me.

I learned a lot from her culinary skills. When we were little, we had a dog named Elvis. One morning Kenna had taken it upon herself to make pancakes from scratch and she somehow messed up the recipe. Whether she accidentally switched the sugar and salt, we’re not sure, but they were awful! Mom put the pancakes into an old Cool Whip tub and took them out to the dog. Elvis cautiously approached it, sniffed the contents, and promptly buried the entire bowl. The lesson here is that if at first you don’t succeed, the dog is probably laughing at you too! But she did try, try again, and our appetites are a testament to her cooking skills.

Through this experience Kenna taught me determination.

I also learned a lot through her language skills. Kenna used to teach me certain words; the kind of words that you didn’t want to say in front of mom, and she was telling me from experience! If any of you ever hear me *accidentally* slip one of those words into conversation, just consider it a small part of Kenna’s legacy.

Through this, Kenna taught me that there is a time and place for everything, and it’s important to recognize the difference.

She also taught me how to successfully execute a practical joke. For the first ten years of my life, Kenna and I shared a room. One night we were supposed to be asleep, but we were talking instead, and I had taken over the conversation as I usually do. As I talked away, I was oblivious to the fact that Kenna was silently and stealthily piling blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals next to her in the bed to make it appear that the bed was occupied. She slid out the end of the bed, slithered across the floor, and popped up at the foot of my bed with a “BOO!”

From this I learned to always sleep with a night light, and that sometimes you need to stop talking and start listening.

Kenna taught me how to delegate responsibility by placing the things she didn’t want to clean on my side of the room. Namely, the cat’s litter box.

Kenna taught me how to stand up for myself and those I love when she confronted a man twice her size, waving a wet newspaper in his face, because he dared insinuate that our mother had been dishonest.

But the most important thing my sister taught me was courage. Not just the courage to ride the free fall ride at Frontier City, or the courage to eat fried gator tail in Florida, but the courage to face whatever life may throw at us.

One day shortly after she was diagnosed, we were talking about strength. I told her, “I could never do what you’ve done. You’re stronger than I could ever be.” Kenna stopped me and said, “No! Don’t you dare say that! I am not superwoman. You find out that you do what you have to do.” It was through her courage that she taught me how to face this day, because that’s what I am doing, and what we all are doing: “what we have to do” to make it through today and every day from now on.

So thank you Kenna, for teaching me the things that only a big sister can. I love you.