Donna

I am writing this for members of my family, and for others who may be interested.

 

My twin sister Donna died a few hours ago of stage three lung cancer. The end came quickly and somewhat unexpectedly.

 

She was preceded in death by Lisa Pesci, my brother’s daughter, a woman of great courage who died still full of years, and my sister’s husband Craig Tobey Senior, who left her at a young age with a great gift: her accomplished son, Craig Tobey Jr.

 

My sister was a woman of great strength, persistence and humor. To the end, she loved life and those who loved her.

 

Her son Craig, a mere sapling when his father died, has grown up strong and straight. There is no crookedness in him. Thanks to Donna’s persistence and his own native talents, he graduated from Yale, taught school in Japan, there married Miyuki, a blessing from God. They moved to California – when that state, I may add, was yet full of opportunity – and both began to carve a living for themselves from a stony land of promise, much to the delight of Craig’s mother.

 

When his mother became ill, he cared for her in her relatively new home in East Windsor and tendered her throughout her last days when she, weakened by her illness, drew her last breath at Hartford Hospital.

 

Her last words to me were: “Don, I want you to know – I don’t care what happens to me.” My last words to her were: “And I want you to know – I do care what happens to you.” She smiled at this, weakly, and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

 

This is what she meant: “Tetelestai” – “It is finished," or "it has been accomplished.” The Greek word “Tetelestai,” spoken by Christ from a cross of suffering, is found only in the Gospel of John. It is an accounting term that means “The debt has been paid.” My sister discharged her debt long before she died, and it is only a slight exaggeration to say that her whole life was an accounting, full of hidden meanings.

 

The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, whom her son – he studied philosophy at Yale – knows well, used to say, “To think of one who has died, is a prayer.” My niece, Jennifer (Pesci) Anderson, probably will not be surprised to discover that she has been praying with her sister Lisa for decades. She too, as well as her sister, is a woman of great courage. And she knows that a thought of her sister is a prayer, a spiritual resurrection. My wife Andree thinks of her mother – prays with her – nearly every night.

 

Andree and I will think of my sister and pray with her often – as will everyone who knew her.