Our sister Debbie passed September 28, 2025, but neither of us - her sisters - could face writing another obituary since we wrote one only four months earlier for our mom when she passed. We were completely traumatized.

At the start of life, we are celebrated, and at the end of life, we should be honored for our time spent here. Whether we lived large or quietly existed – everyone matters and deserves to be remembered.

It's time we remembered Debbie "out loud" and honored her on what would have been her 64th birthday, today, May 11, 2026.

Debbie was one of those people who quietly existed in this world but only towards the end of her life. Anyone who knew Debbie when she was younger, knew she was a force to be reckoned with back then. Debbie was loud, unfiltered, and funny. She was the "disco queen" and filled our childhood home with music, dancing, laughter and friends. She was a fantastic dancer, and she had excellent taste in music. Debbie was unapologetically herself and that's how she lived. She dressed how she wanted, she said what she wanted, and she did what she wanted. We were a decent amount of years younger than her, the two annoying little sisters watching from our bedroom, sneaking peeks and trying to be a part of the "cool kids" and Debbie's disco dancin' world because it was so incredibly fun.

Debbie's world changed, though, right before her 40th birthday – she was diagnosed with brain cancer. It was at that time we saw a side of Debbie that we had never seen – bravery. She was still her big-mouthed, funny self even as she went through her treatments. Undoubtedly, she had the healthiest, most positive attitude anyone with cancer could have. It was quite admirable. Even though she wasn't given a good prognosis, she remained outwardly positive and funny, loving the "shock value" of flipping up her hair to show her bald spot and brain surgery scar to anyone who would look. That was Debbie's "claim to fame." I think our family felt her attitude helped her stay healthy as her scans continued to come back clear every year. It was, in fact, miraculous considering what she endured.

As time moved forward and Debbie no longer had the ability to live alone, she moved in with our Mom.

Mom cared for Debbie the best she could although she was unwell and weak herself. We spoke often about Debbie losing more and more of her cognitive abilities and how she needed help with the simplest tasks. All of the treatments from her cancer were affecting her through the years, not only in daily living, but her personality. She went from the brazen, big-mouthed bully to a gentler version of herself that was unfamiliar, but welcome. The rare times we saw her, she enjoyed being around us probably for the first time in our adult lives. Our sisterly dynamic had certainly changed from when we were younger. As all sisters do, we had our relationship struggles - age, distance, personalities clashing – so we cannot claim our family was sunshine, flowers and happiness all the time. However, we were sisters, and we would always be sisters.

It took us a long, long time and an enormous amount of heartache to get to that place, but we got there just in time to love her and for her to love us before she passed away. And we told each other so, which I do not think we'd ever done in our entire lives.

Debbie continued trying to be our big sister after Mom died even though she was deteriorating rapidly without Mom around. She tried so hard to live "normally," but her memory, her ability to understand simple concepts and her physical capabilities were quickly declining. We became more like mothers to her rather than sisters. We wanted to keep her healthy and safe and make sure she knew she would always be cared for. She rarely showed she was scared because of her endless pride and bravado, but we knew she was, and we had to protect her the best we could. Thankfully she had her best friend helping her until the very end, and to her, we are forever grateful.

When we got to the hospital, we realized that these were probably her final days. Debbie's face lit up with recognition when she first saw us. But as her condition declined each day, so did that initial recognition. We sat by her side day and night talking to her, doing everything we could to get her back to the "Debbie" we knew but she was never coming back. Our final act of sisterly love was promising to find her dog a loving home.

In our last moments with our oldest sister, her eyes briefly conveyed something to us – a tiny flicker of recognition. We think she knew we were there because she looked at us and her eyes were focused for several moments.

That was her final sisterly gift to us as we said our goodbyes.

We hope she carried our love with her to heaven and to our parents.

Happy first heavenly birthday, Debbie. We miss you.

With love,

Your sisters, Lisa and Jill, your niece, Casey and your nephews, Tommy and Bobby.

Please share your memories of Debra or express condolences to her family through our online guestbook. The online guestbook can be found by scrolling below to the Guestbook box below and clicking on the 'View & Sign' button. You can share your thoughts and memories, upload pictures and/or light a candle.