I’m still trying to understand LeAnne, even after she has been gone for almost two years now.

My sister was likely born on the autism spectrum and with developmental delays, but her diagnoses stacked up throughout her life. She suffered childhood trauma, and the affects of being in and out of institutions most of her early life. She had learning disabilities that traditional schools in the 70’s could not handle. She suffered from mental health challenges: both schizophrenia and bi-polar disorder. I can never pinpoint any one challenge LeAnne lived with, for she had so many.

Our paths took a very different course growing up.

 

LeAnne’s institutionalization disrupted her childhood and scrambled our family dynamic; It made our relationship as sister's disconnected. I was was very protective, however, I also kept my distance.

In my twenties, I remember driving up I-40 on my way to Asheville, NC, to ride mountain bikes with friends, and passing the exit for Broughton Hospital, where LeAnne was a patient for more than five years. That exit — or split in the road — somehow felt like a metaphor for our sisterhood.

I do know who LeAnne was that last year of her life. She was the same person she always was, but who I hadn't seen previously, because my vision of her before she got cancer was of her disabilities, not her abilities. She housed multitudes. She was anxious, but also full of joy. She was intense and obsessive, but so very sweet. She was loud, but gentle. She was sometimes fearful, but also adventurous. She was accepting of everyone she met. She was undefinable. Human.