Mandy Walker

My Sister, My Person

I was the first of two "miracle" children, born after our mother had at least six miscarriages. When I was five years old my younger sister, Rachel, was born. When she was two years old she was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes, which was poorly managed for most of her life- mostly due to the shame and embarrassment she felt about her disease. We were raised in an abusive household, always had an incredibly strong bond, and were each other's "person" (for Grey's fans we were Meredith and Christina). Around 2019 Rachel and I had a falling out, mostly due to the fact that I got a new job, and at the time I didn't realize that it was actually a cult. Because I was in a very vulnerable emotional place, I was heavily manipulated. I lost touch with my own morals, and adopted beliefs that were very dangerous. From the beginning Rachel could see right through them when NO ONE else in my life could. She tried so hard to tell me that I was being used, but I didn't listen. My employers brainwashed me into believing I couldn't trust any of my family or friends so I distanced myself from everyone. February 11th 2022 I woke up in a panic in the middle of the night. Later in the morning around 6:30am I got a call from my mother. She said "Mandy... Rachel just died. Can you come over? I need you." I somehow managed to drive to my parents' house, saying "no" over and over and over the whole 15 minute drive there. I arrive and there are several police cars, no ambulance. I ran through the door screaming "what the fuck". The police took me up to her room and I opened the door to see my 26 year old baby sister laying on the floor, with blood coming out of her mouth, and her eyes open. Her skin was discolored. My dad hugged me and I collapsed into him and just screamed. His lips were bruised from giving her CPR. I will never be able to express what I saw in her eyes and how that image is burned into my mind. I grabbed her hand- it was cold and stiff. I touched her hair. A police officer opened the door and told us the coroner needed to come up to take her and we would not want to be there for that. I remember saying to him "please just give me five more minutes its my baby sister". There is so much drama that happened as a result of that day. I had to do all the paperwork and communication with the funeral home, the doctor mistakenly marked pregnant at time of death on Rachel's death certificate, which I had to handle alone. I went no contact with my mother because we got into a fight where she said she didn't care if I died, so I attempted suicide the next day. I called family members out for all the gossip that involved me, relationships were permanently severed, I had to navigate coping with my grief when the only person that was there for me was my dad. So many family members that I thought I was close with, never said a word to me. My husband's family (that I assumed I was lovingly welcomed into) never reached out to me or my parents. When my sister died I was taking pre-requisite classes for a doctorate program at a community college. I withdrew from one class, but chose to stay enrolled in my chemistry class because it was the one thing I could focus on and not think about my sister's death. I was fired from my job, and they told the state I quit so I couldn't collect unemployment. My professor honestly saved my life. She has a PhD in chemistry, and worked with CRISPR- an incredible scientific breakthrough that opens the door to curing genetic diseases. When Rachel was alive, we believed for a long time that a cure for T1D would be discovered in her lifetime. We made so many plans of what we wanted to do together. A few months after her death I decided to pursue a career in researching CRISPR. So now I am still here, trying to survive without my person- my true soul mate.