My big sister, Darlene Allen

Dynamic. Brilliant smile. Kind, generous. Dedicated to students. Loving mother, grandmother, and wife. And sister. Words used to describe my big sister. On December 19th, the 51st anniversary of her marriage to Neal, Darlene peacefully slipped away. 

I’m a middle kid. Second girl. My sister’s copy until I found I couldn’t reach her sociability and gymnastic skill level. Oh my goodness, she was amazing. 

She was dynamic from the beginning. As a toddler, I have pictures of me watching her stand on her hands. My mom would tell the story of her hanging out a second-story window, yelling for my mom in the kitchen a story below because I was crying. “Mom, the baby is crying!”

My parents followed her to every cheerleading game at Midpark High School. She practiced her toe touch jump until the living room rug was worn to the wood floor below. In the style of the 50s, Mom had a mirror perfectly placed on the wall perpendicular to the picture window in the living room.

At BGSU, cheering all four years, she discovered an even higher acme. Everyone knew her.

She could have been anything. She chose to teach Phys. Education and Health. After Dar accepted a Bowling Green Middle School job, she married Neal. She met Neal when he accompanied BGSU cheerleaders to away games. When they married and after, I thought Dar lived a charmed life with Neal and her three beautiful kids. She paused her teaching job to raise them. 

Dar came to visit me in Columbus soon after she retired from her second round of teaching. She asked me if her voice sounded funny. It didn’t seem different to me, but she noticed a difference. Soon after our visit, she was diagnosed with aphasia. Broca’s aphasia, Wernicke’s aphasia, and global aphasia are three kinds of aphasia. All three interfere with the ability to speak and understand language.

Sure, there were times she was depressed and angry. She was the one person who kept in shape and ate right. But she fought it. When it became difficult to talk, she wrote notes. When the stairs at their beautiful home became too difficult, they moved to a smaller one-story home. When her fluid handwriting became small and illegible, she communicated with the assistance of a keyboard. 

For months she would not let me see her, telling me she wanted me to remember her the way she was before the illness. I promised several times I would. 

We all wanted to know what caused the aphasia. Family history? Injury while cheering? A minor stroke? After visiting every possible medical facility, no one had a definitive answer. 

Neal kept her home. He refused to have her be anywhere else. Due to the pandemic, he primarily cared for her by himself most of the time. Her kids did everything they could. Having careers in different places in the United States, they traveled to Bowling Green when they could and Facetimed every week. The toll it took on him showed in losing weight, in his notes, in his voice when we finally were allowed to come. Saying it was a labor of love doesn’t cover it.  

I intend to keep my promise. I’ll remember our growing up when I was the pesky little sister. Our breakfasts when we were both in Bowling Green. I’ll remember the laughter when we shopped together in Perrysburg and Columbus. No worries, Dar. 

Donate to the National Aphasia Association to help. https://www.aphasia.org/donate/?gclid=Cj0KCQiAip-PBhDVARIsAPP2xc3EkoSXyBjb8D0qDuJxsH3tnF07_e3jAQ72VcqtMlk16_NNWdxf9hYaAhRwEALw_wcB