thoughts of random friendly reminders

shared by Marlo R. Beall, her sister

Yesterday I read an article about a college basketball player whose jersey was going to be retired on his senior night. And I thought, that's pretty cool. When I saw the picture that accompanied the story, it made me smile because - in addition to the player looking like a nice, talented, young man - his jersey number was 22. And that reminded me of Cyn...because she was a basketball player and fan, and her birthdate is the 22nd.

Not a day goes by that I don't think of Cyn, usually several times a day. So it's always fun to come across random things or occurrences, like this story, that make me think of her in that given moment.

As I read more about the player, I learned that the reason he wears #22 is because it was how old his brother was when he died unexpectedly and tragically. So sometimes, there are times when that small reminder feels a little less random; and I like to believe that those are instances when it's just Cyn's clever and subtle way of sending out a little "Hi there!" from above.

thoughts of Cyn's "favorite" color

shared by Arlene Rabuy, her sister

Growing up as one of five children, we were each assigned a particular cup color. I remember there being a set of four Tupperware tumblers in the colors of orange, yellow, green and blue. I distinctly remember

"C I N D Y" written in all capital letters with a black marker on the yellow tumbler. Because of that tumbler, my sisters and I consistently assigned yellow as Cyn's favorite color, whether she liked it or not.

thoughts of bike riding and broken bones

shared by Marlo R. Beall, her sister

When Cindy was young, she broke one of her ankles. I say "when she was young" because I don't remember exactly how old she was when it happened. My best guess is that she was between four and seven years old. I wish I was more certain about the specifics of everything that happened, but I honestly just can't remember; and I apologize to my parents and sisters if aspects of this story are incorrect...

My sisters and I were riding bikes with our neighbors. Growing up, we had a lot of fun with the kids in our neighborhood, as there were about four families that each had at least three kids around the same age as each other. Cindy and I were riding our neighbor's bike up their driveway. I was pedaling and she was sitting behind me, with her arms wrapped around my waist. For one reason or another, we fell to one side; and Cindy, the bike and I all toppled onto the concrete driveway.

It didn't appear as though either of us was seriously hurt at first. But somehow, Cindy's foot managed to get caught between the spokes of the back tire. I want to say that she was crying, having just fallen off a bike and having that bike land on top of her, but I don't recall her being too upset or it being too difficult to keep her calm. Between all the kids that were around, we managed to convince her that she was fine, and - more importantly - to not tell our parents what had happened.

Later that day, back at home, one of our parents noticed that Cindy was not walking "quite right". Rather than walking, she was more so hopping around, and she had trouble getting up the stairs. So our parents proceeded to examine her feet, her legs, and her ankles, and they could tell that something indeed was wrong. I think my sisters and I tried to convince them that she seemed just fine. In the end, the truth was revealed, Cindy got a cast, and the rest of us got in a lot of trouble.