On the 7th Anniversary of my Soul-Sister's Passing Missing Dede Miller Everyday.

Dede holding vigil with a picture of Casey Seven years ago at 2:38 in the morning, my dear sister, best-friend, comrade, and colleague passed away from a debilitating struggle against cancer and the Cancer-Industrial-Complex. Later that day, my oldest granddaughter (who was seven at the time) and I sat in Dede’s recliner, in the room she transitioned in watching coverage of the liberal-bougie Women’s March. It was two days after Trump’s inauguration and while the Pink Pussy-Hatted Adult-sized Toddler-looking Brigade freaked out over the fact their war criminal, Harpy Hillary didn’t win, my granddaughter looked up and me and said, “Gigi, don’t cry, Auntie is in the place where there is always peace and never any war.” For those of you who didn’t know Dede, she was what used to be called my “Irish Twin.” An Irish Twin is a sibling who is less than a year, younger and/or in the same grade at school, even though the sibs never shared a womb. Dede was a constant presence in my life. I was only 11-months old when she was born, so, of course, I cannot recall a time when she wasn’t there. Sometimes her presence was abrasive, but, most of the time, we were best-friends and partners in Peace Crime. I have thousands of stories about the adventures Dede and I shared in the short 58-years of her life: from harassing our younger brother; to playing endless games of Monopoly; to playing softball (she was better than was I); to her being by my side for all four births of her nephews and nieces; Dede was a supportive force, and even in our difficult times, I never doubted her loyalty, or, her commitment to our joint struggle for peace. When she was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer in mid-2015, without hesitation, I moved her from Bellflower into my place in Vacaville, Ca. In return for her loyalty and love, I drove her hours to Sebastopol twice a week to get vitamin c infusions; I fixed her healthy meals; even though I opposed her choice to receive chemo, I took her to every appointment and met with her oncologist dozens of times, and sat by her hospital bed the many times she was admitted (mostly to try and help the side-effects of the cancer “treatments.”) At the end of 2016, when her oncologist gave us the bad news that her breast cancer had spread all over her body, despite (because?) of all the chemo, radiation, and surgeries, Dede cried about the pain she was in and the fact that she had to conserve her pain meds because we were frequently denied refills, because: opioid addiction. Dede told the doctor, “no more treatment.” She just wanted to live the rest of her life in whatever peace she could find. She only lived about five-weeks more. In return for her decades of love and friendship, I granted her wish to not die in hospital, so our largest bedroom (with en suite bathroom) was turned into hospice. Getting pain medicine is no problem in hospice. A hospital bed was brought in for Dede, and I slept in her bed and became an assistant hospice nurse. We began our lives sharing a bedroom, lived for 20-years as roommates, and we ended her life as roommates again. So, at 2:38am on 22 Jan 2017, I held her as she transitioned. A few minutes before she drew her last breath she said, “Casey is here, he wants me to go with him.” I said, “You should go.” “I can’t walk” Dede cried. “You can fly, dear sister, fly with Casey,” I replied. And she did. Dede always knew how to make me laugh and we laughed at the most inappropriate times. I could really have used her humor over these years since covid, but the model and memory of her strength certainly have inspired me to never give up! I hope her story and life can be the inspiration for many. Now, I need to dry my eyes and get back to our work. Dede and Cindy somewhere in Missouri on Tour de Peace (three-month bike ride across the U.S.) Farewell Dede By John Kaniecki (Jan 2017) Farewell Dede You are now free The cage always opens It is destiny You were noble In the struggle and the fight You took on trouble To do what is right I pray for the peace You sought in this domain I am glad for the release From torment and pain We will weep We will cry But we have much to keep After goodbye Flap your wings Soar to the stars above Tomorrow always brings Endless Love Leave a comment Share Cindy Sheehan's Soapbox Newsletter It’s never too late to become a paid subscriber to support our work, or for a one time donation: We have different tiers of support: $5/month; $50/year, or $100 as a founding member. Upgrade to paid Checks/money/orders/cash/etc can be SNAIL-mailed to: Cindy Sheehan’s Soapbox, LLC PO BOX 6264, VACAVILLE, CA 95696 PayPal: cindysheehanssoapbox@gmail.com Cindy Sheehan's Soapbox Newsletter. © 2024 Cindy Sheehan PO Box 6264, Vacaville, CA 95696