I
have a habit (and I think we all do in one way or another), where I
believe that nothing bad can happen to me. Somehow, somewhere deep down, I
never believed terrible things could happen to me. Because they hadn’t. I
have seen all my grandparents pass away, broken bones, gotten super
sick, felt guilt, felt regret, gotten my heart broken, struggled with
depression, anxiety, etc., but I’ve led a pretty cush life. I grew up
with awesome parents, an incredible family, great friends, and talents
and opportunities many never get. A few years ago my life was turned
upside down and I want to be open and candid about it. Maybe this is my
way of overcoming some of the pain and sadness I have pent up inside of
me, which only gets out when my inner volcano erupts. I’ve been dreading
this day for a year. 8/23/16 marks one year since my identical twin
passed away. I want to share my story without holding much back. So here
it is…
I
grew up with Rachel, my twin, and we had a love hate relationship, as
I’m sure all girl-girl-twin’s do (the hormones don’t help). High school
was rough. I was positive Rachel was out to ruin my social life, and I
remember she felt that way pretty often as well. But if you ask my mom
(Diane), to this day she will admit that Rachel was definitely the
bigger problem. She was a rapscallion and we liked and disliked her for
this reason. Anyway, Rachel and I went to Mexico the summer of 2012 on a
humanitarian trip, and this is where she started to act sick. It never
seemed abnormal though. Later in the summer, we got in to the TV show
“Lost”, and ended up laying in my twin size bed together, all day, every
day for weeks watching our show. I was lazy, I didn’t realize that she
was fatigued. She was taking 6 hour naps each day soon after. So much
testing, nothing was wrong. But it was. Rachel was an athlete, and it
was so unlike her to feel so fatigued and dizzy. It was August 9th,
2012 I was nannying Brodey. I was about to take him to the pool, when I
got a call from Rachel who was at yet another dr. appointment. I
distinctly remember thinking, she has cancer, brain cancer. On the phone
she told me I needed to wait to go swimming till she got home.
My
Mom and Rachel pulled up in the garage, and I was panicking. They made
their way inside where they sat at the counter. I tried to push them
asking over and over what was wrong. The silence and the tears lasted
for what felt like a lifetime. I kept praying my initial feeling was
wrong. They were both in tears. Finally, Rachel got the courage to tell
me she had a brain tumor—and it was cancerous. I was right, for the
first time that I didn’t want to be. I didn’t know what to think or how
to respond. But Rachel being the sassy girl she is, was quick to make it
known that she was going to get the thing cut out of her head, get back
to normal, and be running again by state track the next year. I left
and went to the pool, Rachel made me. I met some friends but kept the
news to myself, my whole family didn’t know yet. I kept thinking about
it, but didn’t know how scared I really should have been. That night she
was at Primary Children’s in SLC. I visited her, only to find out that
she had DIPG, and it was not going to get removed. Over the next few
months it became apparent that Rachel’s initial plans would not come to
pass.
The next few months I grew up really fast. I also missed more school than anyone should. Just a few words from my journal:
“Rachel called me early this morning- crying. She was homesick and just wanted to hear my voice.”
“It scares me to think about Rachel’s cancer. What’s going to happen next, how many more Christmas’.”
“No one understands, and I am DYING on the inside. I wish someone would see it.”
I
was dramatic. But that is how I felt. I was a high schooler that just
wanted a normal life back. I was withdrawn from my dad, and my mom and
Rachel were in Tennessee. And when they got back, Rachel was a different
person. Rachel gained weight, lost weight, got crazy side effects from
her steroids that affected not only her appearance, but her personality
(in more drastic ways that most would think). I would call her daily
when she was in Tennessee to quote a funny line from a TV show because I
was great at impersonating it, and she would laugh so hard. But
eventually the laughs stopped. That’s when I knew that something really
bad was happening.
But
over time, Rachel found strength. She had different treatment types and
we saw improvements. She wasn’t normal, but she was close to the Rachel
I grew up with, and that was good enough for me. Until her health
declined. Cancer was a tease (I’d use a stronger word, but I’m trying to
be good about that). It would give me glimpses of hope for my future,
and then rip it out of my grasp. It was cruel and unfair to me and my
family, and most of all, it was Rachel’s personal hell. But she went
about her trial with courage, faith and strength.
I’m
going to skip along so I don’t write an entire book here (skipping some
of the details here, because there are so many that are too painful to
write (regret, scary symptoms, fear, etc.)), but fast forward a couple
years. Dec. 5, 2014 my boyfriend proposed to me. Rachel was excited and
happy to help me plan the wedding. She was so healthy, working a TON,
having a social life. It was like the same old Rachel with edges that
were a little more round. I know she was excited for me, but she also
really struggled. Why wouldn’t she? Maybe that’s another twin thing… She
even recommended to my mom that my mom and I go to California together
since I had missed so much time and attention for the last few years
while her focus had to be elsewhere, keeping my sister alive.
Here is where I’m going to get a little religious on you. I was sealed to my husband in the Oquirrh Mountain Temple on March 14th,
2015. My mom noticed Rachel’s symptoms starting to surface again that
night. The night I was married. What are the chances. I believe God left
her on this earth until I had someone to take care of me, because she
was the one keeping me together. Cooper needed to be in my life. I know
he did, because I wouldn’t be living today if I didn't have Cooper.
May
of that year, Rachel’s symptoms became so severe she needed to quit her
job at doTERRA. I had been having to walk her around the building
linking arms to keep her walking straight previously as we worked
together. I got the call that my mom had driven her there. I hadn’t seen
her this sick before. I went and helped her walk so my mom didn’t have
to come in. We sat in our boss’ office and she could barely get out the
words. I think she felt like she had failed or was giving up on herself.
I can’t imagine her pain. In fact, this is the first time I’ve cried
tonight as I’ve been typing the story. It was one of the most difficult
things I’ve ever had to witness.
For
months after that her symptoms worstened. She lost a lot of her sight,
hearing, ability to swallow, balance, walk, drink, etc.. If you’ve ever
watched anyone slowly cripple away to their death, I feel your pain. I
was driving over every night to see my twin. It was horrifying and the
most scarring experience I had ever been through or hope to go through
in my life. Just thinking about it tears me to pieces and causes me to
relive the deep pain that was felt at that time. For some reason, as
this happened, I tried to help her balance and walk and stand up on her
own, all in the hopes that she would bounce back like she had done so
many times before.
But
she didn’t bounce back. In fact, it continued to get worse and drug out
for longer than I could have ever imagined. In her last days, cancer
ripped away her health, dignity, and eventually mortal life, but it
didn’t take away her personality and most importantly her testimony of
her Savior Jesus Christ. She had faith in him.
The
most difficult part of the last days with Rachel is that the entire
time her health declined, her mind did not. She was sharp. In fact, she
was almost sharper than she had ever been. She thought a lot. She was a
healthy mind, trapped in a nightmare. Rachel knew that she needed help
going to the bathroom. She knew she couldn’t use a spoon, let alone
swallow her food, and that someone was having to help her. Like I said,
she was trapped in a nightmare, and we had to watch, unable to do
anything. She never gave up. She fought, but ultimately she passed on
8/23/2015. One year ago today.
I
laid in bed for a few days by her side before she passed. We had some
sacred experiences together, but ultimately I prayed she would be
released. She is gone, and has been for a year. But she is not really
gone. I have felt her with me, and Thursday I know I will feel her again
as I perform her temple work. I am so humbled and eternally grateful.
Rachel turned in to a new person with cancer, I said that previously,
but ultimately, she turned in to the most Christ-Like, charitable,
funny, wise person I have ever met. Days before she passed I couldn’t be
in her presence without melting down. She knew I was struggling and she
knew why, and she was the one to comfort me. I wanted so badly to be
the strong one, but she lifted me up when I was down. I miss her.
I
can’t finish writing this, but maybe someday I’ll be able to. So I’ll
copy some of my thoughts from the talk I gave at her funeral:
I
will miss the touch of Rachel’s long dainty fingers. Listening to her
tell me how much she loves me. I will miss watching her sass people and
the way she’d bite my fingers when I helped floss her teeth. I will miss
the way she locked me in to hugs, or brainstormed gifts for others. I
will miss hearing her sweet testimony and her contagious laugh. But I
know although I cannot see her, that she is very close. I MISS MY TWIN, and EVERYTHING I said has left a hole in my heart.
Growing
up, we lived very close to our grandparents and visited often. My
favorite thing I learned from my grandma is that there are no goodbyes.
Each day I would leave her home and tell her goodbye on my way out, to
which she would respond, “No, it’s not “goodbye”, it’s “so long” or “see
you later”. When my grandma passed away, I said “so long”, to which I
now get to say to my sweet twin. This is not goodbye, just see you
later.
She has won her battle and is now free from the pain and misery of a weak and broken body.
I
know Christ lived and died for us. I know there is a plan. I know God
lives and loves each of us individually and will listen to us when we
pray. I am grateful for the way Rachel has touched my life and helped
inspire me to grow my testimony. I am grateful for the peace this gospel
can bring as we go through this trial and the rest of our mortal
experience.
With
all this being said, I know so many people have it more difficult than
me. In fact, I strongly believe we're all pushed past our limits. But
this is my story. And I can't express a fraction of what it's been. Twin
bereavement is much different that other kinds, and I'm having to learn
how to navigate it. One year, and so many to go till I get to see my
sweet twin again. I guess that's why we're told to keep the perspective
of "this life is but a small moment".
Lastly I want to say thank you. For prayers, love, and friendship. If you're reading this, you've touched my life in some way or another. Unfortunately, I let this trial make me ignorant of all the love and support I had. But looking back, I couldn't be more grateful, because I wouldn't have gotten through it without you, and most importantly my Heavenly Father and Savior Jesus Christ.
Now
I'm done. I pray that you will count your blessings, hug a sibling, and
"think of all the beauty that is left around you" -Ann Frank. Because
that is what I have been trying to, and will continue to strive to do.
XX
Jordyn
