By Elena Matyas

While Roxie’s lungs were being filled by oxygen from a ventilator in the trauma room of Huntington Hospital, I held her as best I could through tubes and wires. I sang “You are my Sunshine” over and over again. I believed our love was strong enough to will her back to us.

When Doug told me he was going to start making phone calls to our family on the east coast, I questioned him. Why? She was going to be OK. No need to worry anyone. Having much more of a grasp on reality, he stepped into the hallway and began the agonizing task.

My sister boarded a cross-country flight within hours of receiving Doug’s call. She sat with us at CHLA and cried during the worst day of our life, playing music for Roxie and holding her hand as the ventilator was turned off.

My other sister traveled from Pennsylvania to the Jersey shore so she could personally deliver news of Roxie’s death to my mother, my aunt (who Roxie called “Aunt Toys” - guess why?), my uncle and cousins.

My sister-in-law traveled from the Hudson River Valley to the Jersey suburbs to be with my dad and stepmother, helping them process the tragedy.

My other sister-in-law (Doug’s sister) was enjoying a summer vacation in Vermont with his mom and brother- in-law when they received his call. They immediately packed up their things and during the 6-hour drive home to the Philadelphia area, plotted out their trip across the country to grieve with us.

Sisters don’t always get along. And sometimes, we don’t even like each other. But my amazing universe of sisters responded to Roxie’s death with strength, grace and love while facing their own despair and grief.

Roxie was so fortunate to have her aunties in her life. And I am so fortunate to have them on earth.