Some have asked, so here is my Eulogy for Debbie.

For My Sister, Debbie

I still can’t believe I’m standing here, talking about my sister in the past tense. Debbie was only 53. It feels far too soon, and my heart is broken.

Debbie went through more than anyone should ever have to — cancer, surgeries, chemo, radiation, liver and pancreatic disease, so many injuries, so much pain. And yet, no matter how many times life knocked her down, she somehow found a way to bounce back. She was tougher than most people will ever know.

She used to say she was “sick and tired of being sick and tired,” but the truth is, she never stopped fighting. That was Debbie — strong, stubborn, fierce, and unapologetically herself.

We were three years apart, and even though we lived far away for much of our adult lives, our bond was unshakable. She was my sister, my friend, my person. I’ll forever cherish the memories we made together — our matching tattoos, our July 4th celebrations, and our one and only solo trip to Las Vegas earlier this year.

I hoped we’d have more time, especially after I would retire and move back to KC. I thought there would be more memories and special times. But it wasn't to be. Her poor body was too broken. What brings me comfort now is knowing she’s finally free from the pain she carried for so long.

Debbie, I love you. I always have, and I always will. You were my sister, my heart, and my light. I’ll miss you forever — but I know you’re finally at peace.

Some have asked, so here is Dad's Eulogy for Debbie:

As a father, this is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do — standing here today to speak about my daughter, Debbie, in the past tense. No parent expects to outlive their child. And yet here we are, trying to honor her life, her spirit, and the love she gave us.

Debbie lived life on her own terms. She was fierce, funny, stubborn, and full of personality. She could light up a room with her quick wit and infectious energy. And she was sentimental, too — she loved deeply and cared deeply, even when she didn’t always show it in the ways we might expect.

These last years were hard. It broke my heart to watch her suffer through so many illnesses, surgeries, and hospitalizations. I wanted so badly to take away her pain, but I couldn’t. And now, while my heart is shattered that she’s gone, I find comfort in knowing that she’s no longer suffering. She’s at peace now. And for that, I am grateful.

Debbie, if you can hear me, I want you to know this: I love you. I have always loved you. I am so sorry for the pain you endured, and I forgive everything that’s ever been between us. You will always be my daughter, my heart, and my light.
Rest now, sweetheart. You fought so hard for so long. And though you left us far too soon, you will never, ever be forgotten.

People have asked, so here is Mom's Eulogy for Debbie:

Hi Everybody,

Thank you for being here today to celebrate my courageous daughter, Debbie. She often called me her “second best friend” and her Rock. But the truth is, for many years, she was my whole world.

From the very beginning, Debbie was loving and affectionate. She longed for approval and acceptance, yet she also had that independent streak — determined to go her own way, sometimes pushing just beyond the boundaries we set for her. She kept me on my toes, and I was always trying to reel her back in. But that was part of her beautiful spirit. Debbie also had an incredible love of life. She was always out to have a good time. She loved to laugh and to make others laugh with her. Her quick wit and dry sense of humor could disarm you in an instant.

When she was nineteen, we nearly lost her in a tragic accident. That moment marked the beginning of her lifelong health battles. As her health deteriorated, our relationship changed and developed in ways I never expected. I began taking her to countless doctor appointments, treatments, and procedures. But we made the best of it and those trips became our special outings. Almost every appointment started with lunch — usually a Strawberry Margarita and Spinach Dip, her favorites. We laughed, we cried, we shared so much with each other. Those lunches are now some of my most treasured memories.

As the years went on, and her health struggles grew more difficult, I was constantly in awe of her grit and determination. Debbie faced challenges that would have broken most people, yet she always found a way to bounce back, fueled by an incredible will to live.

During her final weeks in the hospital, I rarely left her side. I advocated for her with the doctors and nurses, but Debbie still wanted to do everything herself. She didn’t want to be treated like a baby, even when she couldn’t manage on her own. Losing her independence was hard for her, but her spirit never faded. She asked us to bring her the foods she craved — Minsky’s Pizza, Chick-fil-A, even a Big Mac. She could only manage a bite or two, but it brought her comfort. One day, she even asked me for scissors so she could cut her own hair. That was Debbie -- She was proud, determined to hold on to herself until the very end.

Debbie taught me so much about strength, resilience, and love. While her life was far too short, it was also full of courage and meaning. She is my daughter, my precious girl, and I will forever love her and miss her.

I’ll finish by saying that throughout all these years, Debbie’s entire family was involved with every aspect of her suffering. We leaned heavily on Dana for her professional interpretation of Debbie’s diagnoses from doctors for all her chronic illnesses. Dana unselfishly gave counsel to each of us no matter whether it was day or night. Many times I had to pull her out of a meeting or away from her own patient to talk to a doctor or help with a crisis. Sometimes those calls lasted over an hour. She was my right hand and I don’t know how I would have survived without her unending love and steadfast support. I love you so much, Honey!!

Thank you all for honoring Debbie with me today.