Remembering Noreen

By Kathleen Dunham

Four-year-old Kathleen Dunham loved her baby sister months before she was born. Although her father once told her that everyone has a purpose in life, Kathleen had no idea that she would find her purpose with Noreen’s entrance into the world.

After Noreen’s doctor diagnosed her with severe physical and mental disabilities and suggested that her parents institutionalize her, they shunned his recommendation and brought her home where they lovingly cared for her until their deaths. As Kathleen leads others through Noreen’s life from birth and through her last days fighting brain cancer, she vividly describes their challenges as the family learned there were few services available to help Noreen as she battled cerebral palsy, how she came to unconditionally accept her sister, and ultimately witnessed the beautiful rewards and miracles that accompanied living with her best friend.

Remembering Noreen chronicles the life of a gentle soul with an intellectual disability and her remarkable influence on her family and those she met on her journey through life, as told by her sister.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Apr 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798765249321

Kathleen Dunham

Kathleen Dunham has been an educator for over forty years that includes work in early childhood, special education, and at the university level. She lives in Michigan with her husband where she is currently writing a children's book about the importance of acceptance and inclusion of disabled individuals of all ages. Dr. Dunham’s sister, Noreen, died on April 23, 2017 at age sixty-two.

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Copyright © 2024 Kathleen Dunham.

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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 979-8-7652-4933-8 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-7652-4934-5 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-7652-4932-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024901971

Balboa Press rev. date: 04/09/2024

CONTENTS

Preface

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Dedicated in loving memory to my sister, Noreen

PREFACE

Spring light and warmth painted the room with the promise of summer as the three women softly said goodbye to their friend. She was prepared for her departure, having received visitors throughout the last few days. As the afternoon approached, the number of callers had eased to those with her now.

Their voices encouraged her to continue her solitary journey, their reassuring words reminding her that her parents and many others were awaiting her arrival. They gathered around her bed, holding her hands, struggling unsuccessfully to hold back tears as she took her last breath and left them.

As if the air in the room had calmed and cleansed it of sadness, the women dried their tears, gave Noreen a final embrace, and left the room to inform the others in the home of her departure. Two women walked into the living area of the group home to comfort housemates. The other, her sister, walked through the side door and into the late afternoon brightness.

The air seemed cleaner now, making it easier to breathe. After more than six years of living with brain cancer, the pain had ceased for Noreen and everyone who knew her.

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CHAPTER ONE

Trees with budding leaves lined my journey home. Michigan in spring has been described as a rebirth of nature. It is a cliché that is well earned. Ten minutes into my drive, with the brilliant daylight glaring through my window, the word sunshine overpowered my thoughts. As the day’s emotions caught up to me, the word evoked memories of my father throughout my childhood, reminding my sister that she was his sunshine. I smiled at the recollection. How often had I heard him singing a song about his happiness at having her to brighten his day? Although Noreen could not verbally express her thoughts, she would smile in an understanding of the special bond they shared. Everyone learned to ask her questions with yes or no answers so she could be included in conversations. As her only sibling, I cherished the times we spent together. I would gather dolls on the floor between us, where pillows supported her, and construct imaginary scenarios for the figures.

Assigning names and titles to the figures, she would watch with fascination as I spoke in various voices for them. In every play set, I needed to plan a role for one of the dolls to assume the character of an aunt. For some reason, which only she appreciated, my sister found the word aunt to be uproariously funny. This memory became my sunshine moment as I traveled home and realized the first of many life lessons I learned from my sister: Find the sunshine in even the most unexpected situations.

Impulsively, I detoured a mile away from my sister’s address and turned onto Dohany Drive, our childhood home. Built in 1950, my parents moved into the house three months after I was born. The town of Farmington was a small community at the time, serving mainly a farming area. My parents, John and Geraldine Martin, met when working and living in Detroit. My mother was employed in the Fisher Building, and my father worked across the main street in the General Motors building. They often passed each other in a tunnel connecting the two structures while walking to lunch. At first, we just smiled at each other as we moved toward our opposite buildings. Then we waved as we recognized each other. Finally, John asked if I would join him for lunch one day, my mother recalled.

My father related the meetings differently, telling me that it took forever to catch her eye. She was a woman on a mission when she was walking to lunch. One day, she dropped a book and needed to stop to retrieve it. That is when I made my move. The rest is history. We lived in Farmington until 1968, after I graduated from high school, and Noreen was fourteen years old.

As I drive past the house today, I am still amazed at the proximity of our Dohany house to the group home where my sister lived later in her life. Developmentally delayed from birth, Noreen would live with four other adult women under the supervision of daily caretakers at fifty years of age. Settled back from the road and nestled among trees, the scene brought back memories I welcomed on this bittersweet day. The car seemed to drive on autopilot to the campus of the parish church.

The view from the office window was unfamiliar. More than forty years had passed since I visited this church where so many experiences of my early life had taken place: baptism, confirmation, Mass. The elementary school was still thriving, although the high school had closed a few years ago. I was here to meet with a church staff member to plan my sister’s funeral Mass. The ladies at my sister’s residence