CDCAN Advocacy Without Borders :: One Community

Headshot of Marty Omoto: Marty Omoto Headshot

Note: this was written less than four weeks after the death of my second sister.  I sent it out as a special CDCAN News Report originally on March 1, 2005.  I was shattered by her passing - and the passing less than two years earlier of my older sister Alana. Alana had developmental disabilities and, along with Sheri - were my inspirations for my being an advocate and a good parent.  I received well over 400 emails, hundreds of cards and phone calls of sympathy and support - most from people who I didn't know.

Special Personal Report - Deep Appreciation for Many Messages of Condolences on the Passing of My Sister Sheri Omoto Chapman - Full Return to Advocacy Work This Week

Sheri Omoto Chapman: Sheri Omoto Chapman

I wanted to take this time to express my family's deep appreciation for the many messages, emails, cards and notes of condolences and prayers  on the passing of my sister, Sheri Omoto Chapman, who died unexpectedly on February 4, 2005 at the age of 47 years.  Her memorial and burial services were held in Monterey on February 11th.

I have tried to return back to work over the past two weeks, but have found it very, very difficult. I am still handling the stray details regarding her burial, and other issues related to her passing.  I appreciate people understanding, and I feel I can get fully back into things, to be back into the work of advocacy for the rights of  people with disabilities and seniors - work I  know my sisters were proud of.  But I first wanted to write something about her and what she meant. I hope people will indulge me.  Once I do this, I can get totally back into the advocacy effort and also writing the reports - I think the last one was Feb 3 on IHSS - the day before she died.  Thank you in advance for understanding. A web page was set up in her memory, at cdcan.us/sheriomotochapman to leave or view remembrances.

I personally received over 400 emails and other messages directly across the state, many from people I don't know  or met.  Those messages touched me in a special way and helped my family and me through this time. A good friend sent me a prayer card that I keep in my wallet. I will never forget those acts of kindness from so many people, from so many friends.  I can never repay such kindness and compassion.  Often it was hard to read those messages - but I do.  Those messages and cards helped our family immeasurably, becoming lifelines to us when we felt like we were drowning in endless waves of grief.

One message came from a family somehow connected to people with disabilities, who I don't know personally, who sent a tender and heartfelt email of sympathy and understanding.  They understood, they wrote, about loss and the "hard work of grieving" a loved one.  And then they mentioned that they too suffered a loss recently.  Their 22 year old son was killed in Iraq on January 23 this year.  I cried when I read that message.  How, in their own pain and grief could this family find the time to even think about someone else's?  There is so much  pain and suffering in this world.  Their message moved me.

Life is often unfair, as John F. Kennedy once observed.  And yet life goes on as it always will, and somehow there is always hope, and there is always a place for happiness and joy.

She was always a part of that joy and happiness.  We were the two closest siblings to our older sister, Alana, who passed away at the age of 51 in March 2003.   Alana had developmental and other physical disabilities - and her life, her strong will and desire to be independent were the reasons I became an advocate over 30 years ago.  But Sheri was my inspiration too - to be a good father, to be there for my own children and to fight hard for and with our sister.

Sheri was a loving parent and fought hard for her older son who had a physical disability that later operations helped to partially correct. She fought hard for his full inclusion in school and other activities without understanding the politics of what she was doing. Like most people, she didn't make speeches to crowds or lobby the Capitol or understand the workings of government.  She didn't need to.  And what an advocate she was for her kids and our older sister.

She leaves behind the love of her life, her husband Andrew, and four wonderful children, Stan, age 24, Tomiko, age 22, Jacquie, age 19 and Andrew Jr, age 12.

It is a hard thing for a father to bury his wife and baby son, and then 25 years later, bury his only two daughters in a space of less than two years.  It is difficult losing two sisters, and painful for children to lose a mother.  But others get through it.

Right now though, it is so hard to accept that they have passed on from our lives, even though we will always have their spirit and memory with us.  We know in our minds, that life does not end with death - and that death is a passage to another part of one's journey in life. But sometimes - right at this moment, in our hearts, it seems that is not enough for those who cared about her and Alana.

We just want to hear Sheri's laughter again, her voice, or hear her sharp and funny irreverent remarks, often aimed, though not meanly, at some unsuspecting insufferable fool. We just want to hold her hand again, or hug her, or just sit next to her one more time to hear her laugh or hear her say something funny or to recall some childhood memory. We miss seeing her beautiful face, and her smile - but also the funny way she could contort her face to make a joke or observation. We miss the way she could argue even when she was wrong - and still win. We miss her love and connection to the metaphysical and spiritual side of life. We miss her compassion and empathy that we always looked for when we had problems or felt bad. We miss her approval when we introduced her to new friends or people or the joy she felt when a new niece or nephew was born. We miss the pride she would have whenever we did something right or good. We miss her vibrant presence that made her the center of our family and the link she was to our own mother who passed away in 1979 at the age of 49.

She was always young even as she grew older, because she could touch that part that is a child inside each of us. She made us laugh in a way that seemed to take away whatever was weighing us down or make interesting whatever was boring, or wash away whatever sadness we might have been feeling. And yet she could also be a source of tremendous strength that could comfort any one of us in times of intense sorrow or fear. She was a part of all that she met in her life. Much was taken from her - but she gave much and that is what remains with us. What a presence she was in all of our lives. What a gift she was to all of us. How deeply we admired and loved her.

So now she is gone, and it seems, we'll just grow old without her. The world seems bleak without her and Alana. My god, we miss them both so much. It seems at times like this, that sadness is frozen in present  time - and happy memories seem only in the past and more elusive, as if they were a collection of fading pictures growing more fuzzy and distant each year.

Her passing devastates my family, but we also know that there is so much to celebrate about her good and caring life. Her memory - and that of Alana may seem to only embrace us now with sadness and grief. In time I know, that embrace will be warm again with happiness and joy. I hope God will give us that time. That time was given, at least in Sheri's life.

When our mom died, Sheri was only 22 years old. It seemed then, that we were in the deepest valley of our young lives, which seemed filled only with grief and despair at losing our mother. It feels that way now for us - as it must feel for Sheri's children. Yet, I remember that for Sheri, all the things she came to treasure and love the most in her life, came after that. She met and married the love of her life. She gave birth and raised four wonderful children that meant everything to her. She was able to share in the joy of the births of 17 nieces and nephews and the weddings (and divorces) that followed. She had a close and loving relationship with our sister Alana. She had a career working with people and a company that she loved. And all that came within the 25 years after the passing of our mom.

The Greek writer Aeschylus once wrote that "God, whose law it is that he who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep, pain that cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despite, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God."

So with her passing comes wisdom and pain, through the awful grace of God.  And God gave her that wisdom and time - though perhaps not time enough for us. She's with our sister Alana and our mom now. Somehow, I know she must be happy at least to be with them again. She missed them so. Somehow I know, we will all be there with them someday. Somehow, I know, we will miss them until that time.