And then there were four.
At 10:00 pm on November 26th, my dad called to tell me my sister had passed. I sat up until 2 in the morning watching the tv show Friends and crying. My whole life, I’ve been the oldest of five, and she was my youngest sister. I don’t know how to be the oldest of four.
My Aunt and cousin said to me, “You were a good sister,” when I told them the news, but I just don’t know. I certainly supported her with any alternative option she chose, but I was silently screaming inside that this wasn’t going to work. When I last saw her in the hospital a week ago, I kissed her forehead and told her she just needed to get out of the hospital so she could do her thing, but again I was screaming inside and knew down deep that wasn’t going to happen. When I last saw my brother-in-law, he told me he needed to fix the heat in his house because he couldn’t bring Amanda home to a cold house. I just smiled, hugged him, and told him we would get it fixed, but, again, inside, I was screaming.
Nine years ago, when she was first diagnosed with breast cancer, she called me and asked me to go with her to Tijuana (you can read about that trip here and here) because she heard of something that was going to work. I remember sitting in the van that picked us up at our hotel and drove us across the border, thinking we don’t belong here, these people are dying. I think I even whispered that to her, and she very much agreed. I tried not to be one of the people in her life who was always asking how she was feeling or what was next; instead, we talked about how much we hated folding laundry, having to go outside in the rain, how any weather below 70 degrees was ridiculous, and her recipe for Irish soda bread. We talked about how we were in a unique situation: we were both the Eldest daughter, but she was always just my baby sister.
Right up until the end, she had so much faith that there was going to be a miracle and her body would heal itself. It was easy to get caught up in that optimism, no matter how much every cell in my body didn’t believe it.
Death has always confounded me. How could someone be here one minute and then gone the next minute? Being brought up in a very religious family, I was taught that when you die, you are essentially sleeping. You stay asleep until the second coming and then the Lord calls you up to heaven. As an adult, that gives me zero comfort, zero. I have since adopted the thought that when you die, you go straight to heaven (assuming you are one of the good ones). You get acclimated up there, learn your superpower, and then you spend eternity looking out for the ones left down here, trying to pick up the pieces, learning how to go through the rest of their lives with a massive hole in their hearts. As I sit here on my couch with only 4 hours of sleep, a cup of coffee, with eggnog, and a turkey breast that may or may not make it into the oven, I have tears streaming down my face. I see the most beautiful sunrise out my window and wonder what superpower my sweet Amanda is learning right now.
So today, on a day when we are all supposed to be giving thanks, I’m finding it very hard to find something, but scrolling through my phone, I found a text from her the day before she died. Every morning, I would text her and tell her I loved her. She didn’t always answer me, but she always read it. On Tuesday morning, I texted her, and she responded with “Good morning, I love you,” so today, I’m thankful for that five-word text and am holding onto it tight. If you’re inclined, please keep my family in your thoughts, especially my parents, Amanda’s husband, and her three precious children, who will be navigating a whole new world foreign to all of us.
Amanda Jeanne DePrada Frey
April 12, 1980 – November 26, 2025
Gina, I’m #4 of 5 children from my mom.. My oldest sister, who was 3 years older than me, was also Gina. Our father’s name; Frank. We girls grew up so close, because of our closeness in age. All one year apart until baby brother was born 9 years later. 4 girls, one boy. My heart is very touched reading your article! In 2019 my sister woke up at 2am, nauseous. After a short time she just dropped and her husband caught her. That was it. Her heart stopped, never to be resuscitated. We were devastated. I was the baby girl and she my big sister, but we were essentially the same age. I loved her so fiercely and loyally, and she loved me the same way back. I experienced the odd sensation of being destroyed yet my love cup was full from her. Not guilt. No regrets. We had talked two hours on the day before she had passed. She always told me how much she loved me. I told her the same. It was a development for my oldest sister to realize that we were so much alike. Same values. Same faith. I want you to know when I read your story of your baby sister’s loss, I read it like my sister Gina had written about me. Thank you for sharing this. My consolation is that she loved Jesus, and because of Him I will see her again. That’s the greatest hope and truth I could cling to. It’s never been about my worthiness, it’s about His ability to cover me. I accept.
Sending you so much love! And be gentle with yourself as you grieve. It’s now been 6 years and I sincerely don’t know if there is a day that I don’t pine for her one way or another. What a beautfil gift I was given. What a beautiful gift you gave, and were given. Embrace that. So many never enjoy the love of a sibling like we have. Also, be aware of the mind’s way of protecting the heart by distancing yourself from the rest of your siblings. Resist it. They won’t be her. But they have equal value, even though they are different. It’s too lonely to not have siblings to lean on. Even if the fear of loss is there. I think losing a sibling rocks our identity more than any other loss. Like you said, our number is 5. We will remain 5. There is a coffee brand, 4 sisters. We identify with that so much! Oh, and ps, from your last name, I can see that we are also share heritage.
Sending you love and lifting you in prayer. Be gentle with yourself as you navigate this.
Cris, I appreciate your words so much. Thank you for not only taking the time to read my post, but taking the time to share your story. I’m forever grateful to my sister and the rest of my siblings. I’m so sorry for the loss of your sister and the suddeness of it and I’m glad you got to talk to her the day before and tell her that you love her and that you got to hear those words. My sister was on a ventilator, but concious and would write and text things to us all, so while I didn’t get to hear those words “I love you”, I will carry my text with her for a lifetime.
Gina,
So terribly sorry for your loss and praying for you and the whole family. I have great memories of spending time with Amanda and your family in NY and hope you all take comfort in the promise of heaven.
Dear Gina,
We were so sorry to hear Amanda had passed! You are all so lucky to have been brought up believing in Jesus and being such a close family! We are praying for God’s comfort for the entire family! Keep believing you will all be together again one day!
Love from Rich & Sue
My heart breaks for all of you Amanda was such an amazing woman and she felt a good fight she will be truly missed he gave me great pleasure to read your note it was so heartfelt and warming God bless you all
Amanda is a special soul full of love and empathy along with the strength to kick butt when needed. I will miss her deeply. Prayers and hugs to you her family and friends.
I can feel the pain and love in your words. You have always been the older sister to all of the cousins too. You are an amazing sister, daughter, mom, cousin and friend; always taking care of those around you. I agree with you, Amanda is in heaven and will help you through the pain though memories of the incredible and faithful life Amanda lived. My favorite memory of Amanda is conversation we had about the God’s rainbow and promise. I will always think of her when I see a rainbow 🌈
Hugging you through the phone! You ARE a great big sister. Everyone knows it and most importantly, Amanda knew it too. 🤍
Gina, I’m so sorry to hear this news. My thoughts are with your parents, the four of you and Amanda’s family.
I’m glad you all have each other to lean on.
All my best!
Parchia
Hi Gina,
I am so sorry for your loss. I totally understand because I lost my one and only sister last August.
I hope for you all the best and a heart that is filled with the best memories of your sister.
I love you and miss you so much. I would love to hear your voice and see your beautiful face very soon.
“Good Morning, I love you” are the most precious words.