- Cape student sues, accuses school officials of slamming her to ground multiple times (04/28/16)46
- Bob Evans restaurant in Cape Girardeau among chain's 21 closings (04/26/16)9
- Missouri House votes to allow concealed weapons without permits (04/28/16)8
- Police report filed, but no charges in incident at Cape Central (04/29/16)38
- Two hurt in motorcycle wreck on Interstate 55 (04/25/16)1
- Senator introduces bill for I-57 that would connect Sikeston with Little Rock (04/28/16)4
- Law firm requests information about Cape's traffic cameras (04/25/16)2
- Local lawmakers split over failed medical marijuana bill; voters may have a say (04/26/16)19
- Local company makes eco-friendly kitty litter that cuts cat-box smell (04/25/16)
- Man accused of pointing BB gun at Chaffee resident (04/26/16)2
August 8, 2012
To My Sister Mary Wulfers-Trainor,
You slipped from this physical life in the early morning hours of December 8, 2011. As your birthday nears, August 13, I am drawn to vivid memories of you. I painfully recall your horrendously violent fight with the cancer that finally took you from us. That last month with you was the most precious and angriest time of my life. You fought harder than I would have to stay here and finish the work you began with Richard when you gave birth to Margaret and gave Tino love and a safe home life in which to thrive.
My anger was for the pain you were in and that I could not ease that pain for you. I held your hand and took care of you when you were awake, and I shed tears for you when you slept.
Mary, you once told me that I was your hero; however, I must tell you that you are the hero of my life. Your generous gifts of time, laughter, and fighting spirit will never be lost because I will remember, and I know all those people you grew up with, went to school with, partied with, worked with, and learned about life with will also remember.
I'm also sitting here remembering your first grade picture. You wore the same dress that I had worn because we didn't have a lot of money for clothes when we were growing up. That beautiful curly brown hair and those innocent, hope-filled eyes are one of the many images I have of you my dear baby sister. We were only 18 months apart in age, and I can't remember my life not having you in it.
We miss you so much -- more than words can express, but your life goes on through your children and the memories that all of us have in our hearts. Be at peace, baby girl, and we will all carry on until it is our time to join you.
Love always, Barb