Over the months, we lived as two people might. Treatment every day. Sickness and fear most of the time. Talks and more talks. Living difficulties…money, rationalizing, traffic, pain, tears, and bewilderment under it all. Above facing all those things came one larger revelation: a human love was born. She and I laughed at cancer in the face. Our daily chronicle kept laughs and tears flowing and from it came family resolution, divine purpose, respect, and fulfillment. Facing death did not take us over. Love took us over. Family love and brotherly love. I was lucky to be my sister’s hero. She always told me that, and trying so hard to be the brother she always thought I was took me to the very limits of my being. I nearly cracked numerous times. But month after month, something happened. What eventually emerged was one final feeling of purpose in life. I finally figured it out. I was kept alive in Vietnam long ago to maybe do this one thing. Give myself away to another person in time of need. I have not had a more meaningful assignment, nor have I had a more fulfilling conclusion. It was my gift and as unlikely a guy as I was to become a caretaker, I am the one who was rewarded. I had real purpose. That is a gift.
Laughter saved us. I loved to make her laugh and in the depths of despair, we kicked inflammatory breast cancer in the teeth, if only to laugh for a few minutes at a time. Autumn Sister records the weeks and months during the days of Cheryl Ann Dobransky Kraynik and tells the true story of a brother and sister, a husband, a son, and a family, who made a courageous attempt at exhibiting dignity, humor, strength, and love as so many millions of families must do in the drama that is cancer. It was my great honor to watch a gracious young sister “walk point” during the long months of torture, and it is her beautiful soul that remains in me always. During the months, I saw thousands of people brave illness and I now love the human sprit more than ever. There must be a great waiting room for all of them somewhere up high. I am now fearless to find out. I thank them all for that.
My intention is to open up our lives in hopes of easing and helping others who find themselves in this fight. By our daily living and constant attempt to disrespect cancer, Cheryl and I stole nights and hours from the rudeness that is life interrupted. We laughed and cried and learned that there are still ways to stand taller when life is pushing down. There are ways to still smile at beauty and love right in the middle of third-degree radiation burns. There is enormous healing gained by putting old family pain aside and seeing loved ones for whom they are. In Autumn Sister, it was my hope to save my own sanity during the hundreds of days by writing of the comedy in hospital OR’s family invasions, or my bachelor ways and corresponding with those back home. It was my need to let her read a daily chronicle each night at my computer in hopes that I would hear hysterical laughter coming out of her. For just those few moments, you see, she was not sick, and that was something I could actually do against cancer. I cured cancer in her for moments at a time, and that was my something.
“Remember,” I told her, “the first three letters in funeral are F-U-N, so that is what we are going to do.” The hell with death and dying. “You’re not dead yet, so today we laugh.” And that we did.