On This Day: Remembering Judy

Pictured: My dad carrying Judy as I look on.

On the historic date of October 17th, Doris Humphrey, choreographer, dancer, and writer was born (October 17, 1895); American film star, actress, and dancer, Rita Hayworth, the legendary Hollywood beauty, was born (October 17, 1918); Physicist and renowned genius, Albert Einstein, arrived in the United States as a refugee from Nazi Germany (October 17, 1933); Evel Knievel, motorcycle daredevil, was born (October 17, 1838); Jimmy Seals, singer, songwriter, and one half of the successful soft rock band “Seals and Croft” was born (October 17, 1941); and the famous actress, Ava Gardner, and jazz composer and bandleader, Artie Shaw, were married (October 17, 1945). More recently, Mother Teresa, of India, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for her work on behalf of the destitute in Calcutta (October 17, 1979).

However, on October 17, 1945, a historic event occurred in my family of origin when my older sister, Judy, was born. She was a dancer, actress, singer, acrobat novas, comic, teacher, treasured friend, loving mother and beloved wife. I called her “sister.”

Judy had carrot red hair and a personality to match! She was a petite 4’ 10” and I was a tall 5’ 7”, a virtual giant in my mind, standing next to her. I loved being with her. She made things happen and she pushed me to do more . . . to be more.

My sister Judy was five years older than me. Our parents spaced their children rather far apart. There was a three-year space following the birth of my older sister, Vicki, before Judy was born. Five years later I arrived, five more years brought my younger brother, Devro, and then finally seven years later, my little sister, Loni, completed our family.

Judy was full of energy! She loved people and she was always busy with lots of activity. She loved to dance. Judy had Perthes disease when she was young, a disorder of the hip in young children. Many theories have been proposed as to the cause of the disease, including inflammation, infection, trauma, and even “hip problems” noted at birth. Whatever the cause, my parents were told Judy would always walk with a limp. However, Judy didn’t let the disease stop her. She wore her crutches to school and let the other kids try them out while she hopped around. She claimed they even made her popular! However it was dancing lessons that eventually created magic in her life and a miracle in her body. Her bones fused in such a way that she could walk and dance with grace. When the doctors examined the x-rays of her hip, they couldn’t understand why she didn’t walk with a limp.

I was shocked the day our Judy died. Even though she had a serious form of Leukemia, I had not expected her death. No one in our family did. We rationalized that something that unthinkable couldn’t happen again in our family, remembering the toxemia related death of my sister-in-law Gayle and her baby, Skyler. Besides Judy’s husband, Neal, was so spiritual – the bishop in their ward. He had promised she’d be all right and I believed him. We all wanted to believe him. We were not prepared to lose a sibling, a daughter, a friend, wife and mother. I was angry with Neal for a long time following her death because he didn’t seem to display any guilt for the decision he’d helped her make to have the bone marrow transplant. I couldn’t feel his pain, only my own. However, we all felt guilt, each in his or her own way . . . for bone marrow not good enough, for time not spent together, and for silly arguments of long ago. We felt guilt that we didn’t know there wouldn’t be time for all the things we’d planned to do and say. I will never forget the shock on her children’s faces when they were brought to the hospital to view their mother. She had passed away earlier in the day and appeared to be sleeping peacefully, as the midday sun shown through her hospital window. Her five children were young, ranging in ages 4-15 and as I watched them gather around her lifeless body, I realized they were as unprepared as I was.

On September 10, 1986, twenty-three years ago, at the age of 40, my sister, Judy moved on to her heavenly home after her valiant battle. I was in her hospital room as she passed from this life into the next one. Only Neal, our mother, a nurse, and I, watched helplessly as she quietly slipped away. I’d arrived at the hospital only minutes before. I remember frantically trying to put on the protective clothing required by the hospital before entering the sanitary environment. My mother motioned to me to abandon the task, to come quickly. With tears blurring my eyes, I entered her room and reached for her tiny petite hand. Her eyes were closed and the only sound in the room was from the quiet hum of the machine she was hooked up to. As I took her small hand, I gently whispered, “It’s Linda, Judy, I’m here.” I felt the slightest squeeze of my hand, and then she was gone. I remember that moment as clearly as if it was yesterday. It was the first time in my life I had complete confirmation of life after death. I felt the spirit in the room and knew others were there to guide her home. Tears still well up in my eyes when I write or think about that day.

I have been told that earlier in that day, Judy opened her eyes and complained about the noise in her room, asking her husband to please tell everyone to be quiet. He was confused, as the room was silent with only the soft hum of the hospital machine. He assured her that there was no one in the room talking. That day, as she lay dying, the spirit testified to me of our life before this one. My family is noisy and when we get together we all talk at once, excited to share our news. I wonder if the talking, noisy people she referred to were all of our noisy ancestors, excited and preparing for her return, just as we anticipate and enthusiastically prepare for a new baby.

Last Saturday, October 17, 2009, Judy would have been 64 years old. I had a dream about Judy last week. It seemed so real, like I was really with her. She came to see me and Neal was with her, his arms around her shoulders. He was grinning from ear to ear and he was so happy. I was surprised to see her and couldn't believe she was real. I threw my arms around her hugging her tightly and she felt as real to my touch as anyone on earth! Perhaps that's what the resurrection will feel like.

Someone once told me, “We can’t heal our pain until we can find gratitude for the trial or experience that gave us the sadness.” I used to think, “I’ll be grateful when this trial is finally over!” Who knew that losing my sister would be the beginning of understanding the gift of gratitude and unconditional love? The Savior taught us to love one another unconditionally. It seems like a simple gospel principle. Now I know it is an essential principle and the one that will guide us safely home.

In Loving Memory of Judy: October 17, 1945 – September 10, 1986