I don’t think I’ve ever really taken the time to talk about my sister Gini. She was taken from us far too early and it’s something that I’ve struggled to process. An amazing human that spent her entire life in service of helping others. I always felt a bit insecure around her because she possessed intelligence, strength and caring that I didn’t see within myself. She, like my eldest sister Leanna was gifted. They were blessed with a focus at a young age. The desire to become nurses, healers and caregivers was always something they’d planned to do. Gini touched both the people that she worked with and those that she came in contact with at her hospital. She had the “it” factor.

The relationship between us was strained at times, but I never saw her as anything but amazing. I feel at times that I didn’t tell her enough just how special she was. At a younger age we had our petty bickering that any siblings would have, but we always looked out for one another. She took the lead on many occasions and I’d gaze upon her and followed willingly. Almost a mother figure when we were young. She led the way to the local pool during the Summer months. She’d walk with you to the bus stop to get to school. When she became of age to drive, she’d give me a lift. It may not have been her favorite thing since having a little brother in your car certainly wasn’t exciting. She did it anyway and made sure that I was where I needed to be. She’d already started being a caretaker.

I think I’ve shared this before, but it’s so worth going back through again. My fondest memories with my sister Gini came about during a summer of prepping to do a marathon together. I’d completed the Dayton Air Force marathon with my other two sisters a few years prior and Gini decided that it was something she wanted to do. She’d set a goal for herself to accomplish a full 26.2 mile marathon. She came to me at the beginning of a year and said that she wanted to do this and asked that I train her to be able to complete the task. I was overjoyed! The idea of sharing miles with someone that meant so much to me was a must.

We began the training in late Spring/early Summer and decided to get together regularly to build up mileage. Small walks turned into longer walks and conversations flowed. We’d spend hours out on the roads in Oregon and Genoa (her home town). Gazing at homes, talking to animals and just having conversations about life. I feel now as though it was just yesterday which makes me smile, but through tears. I miss her.

The goal was to able to go back to Dayton and do the same marathon that I’d completed with my other sisters. She wanted that because it was something that had been shared with them, so she wanted to make her own memories, just the two of us. There were times during the training that she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to get through it. She picked my brain on all of the things she might experience and how to get through mental road blocks. It felt nice and different to have someone that I’d always looked up to asking me what I thought and how I’d do things. I felt that I owed her that, and then some for all the times I’d called her and picked her brain for medical advice about whatever my latest injury or illness was. Damn she was smart!

The day of the marathon was full of nerves. I kept telling her to just trust the training and we’d be fine. Remember, it’s just another walk. We’d trained up to 20 miles together, so I knew she was ready, I just had to make sure she felt as confident as I was. Once the gun went off, everything fell into place just like all the afternoons we’d shared on the road. We were in our element and the miles clicked off just as I knew they would. The day was almost perfect, not too warm and full of sunshine. A few clouds here and there which were very welcome. Once we reached the 20 mile marker (the Wall as it’s called). I knew that we were in the home stretch to get there and we started sharing the excitement. The last miles went off without a hitch and before you knew it, we crossed that finish line together! It was such a great moment in time. Her excitement for completing the race only built my excitement. I looked her in the eyes and said; “Congrats Sis, you are a marathon finisher.” It was a beautiful moment and it runs through my brain all the time.

My sister had struggles doing walks as time went on. She didn’t understand what was happening but said that she was just too tired to get out and keep walking. We continued to meet up here and there as time passed to do walks together. Eventually, she’d reached the point where she just couldn’t go anymore. She was soon diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis. She had some other underlying issues as well, but the fibrosis seemed to be aggressive. Her ability to breathe continued to go downhill. I still remember the day we all sat together and she said that she was on a list for a lung transplant. I didn’t even know what to say or how to process it. She’d always been the strong one and it continued even when she was faced with her own mortality. Her strength never wavered. She was going to tackle this head on and do what she felt was necessary. The transplant was not a cure, it just buys you more time. Time that she was quickly losing due to her illness. She even talked of that in a very clinical fashion and was straight up about it. She said, “If I don’t do this, I’m going to die soon, if I get the lungs, it’ll give me another 5-7 years.” She wanted more time to be with everyone she loved and of course, to continue her work as a caregiver.

I have to say that my sister worked every day until she received the call that lungs had arrived at the Cleveland Clinic, and she needed to get there right away. This is who she was. The person that continued to put others first, even when she was faced with death. The surgery was a success and she had been given a new set of lungs to breathe with. I so wish that I had happy things to say about this whole process, but there were so many complications afterwards. She seemed to struggle at every turn. Family events were missed due to illness or hospital trips. All of which were upsetting to Gini. She wanted the time to spend with her family, and was feeling cheated.

We had get togethers at my home, weekend brunch was usually the set up. Fun foods, coffee and conversations were had. Love was shared and time was cherished. I’d sit there and look at her and wonder where she found the strength to do all of this. We discussed end of life and what we all still wanted to accomplish. She made the conversations easy even though they’re such tough things to be talked about. Still the caregiver, even then. Talking about wanting to go back to work, or in what manner she could be of use.

I have discussions with her still while I’m out walking on the roads. Telling her how I miss her so and asking her at times to give me strength. There’s something that feels very wrong to have lost a sibling, especially at such a young age. Someone that was just special, gifted, and loved. Her love and talents still thrive in her family. Her daughter took up the profession that she’d loved for her entire life, a nurse. Probably Gini’s proudest moment was to see her daughter working at the same hospital as her.

A life spent in service of others. That’s who Virginia (Gini) Feller (Neeley) was. She was a champion of many and loved dearly. I owe it to her to continue to strive for better. To make good in my life. I owe her that. She led me at a young age and always looked out for me. She never expected anything from it, just wanted me to reach my highest potential. For so many years I felt that I was a disappointment to her, and hid. I didn’t want her to feel my failures. Spending a summer together changed much of that. We really got to know one another as adults. I was no longer that failing child. I was her equal, if only for a moment. We shared greatness together and that can never be taken away.

I’d ask that anyone who reads this to please take time to work through any petty grievances. Find common ground that you can share. Tell those close to you that you love them, that they are special to you. Hug more, complain less. I continue to work on my feelings and go through the struggles that have damaged my life. I also celebrate the moments that meant the most to me. The smiles and tears of victory I was able to witness first hand when my sister reached a goal she set out to accomplish. They’re forever etched into my brain. Gini, today and always I will celebrate your life. My sister, my protector and my friend. I’ll meet you at the finish line again one day.

Thank you all for taking the time to share in my journey and celebrate the life of my beautiful sister Gini.

~Zombie~