My grief is griefier than your grief.

Have you ever met some ridiculously jerky child and thought to yourself "there is no way that kid's parents love him just as much as I love my daughter". But in reality, that jerk of a child is loved deep down to his being, just as much as I love my kid. I mean, look at her, she's the best!

I keep feeling this way when someone tells me that they have lost their brother to cancer too.  I think to myself "well, there is just no way that you love your brother as much as I loved mine." I have a hard time believing that. I mean look at us, we are the best! 

My cousin had a similar exchange when she told people at work that she was going to drive from Pennsylvania to Nebraska for her cousin's funeral. Her coworkers seemed to think she was insane to go through this for a cousin. Her response was "well, he wasn't my cousin like your cousins are to you, he was my cousin and and pretty much my brother." 

Obviously we all feel we have a much better connection to those we lose, than anyone else in the history of forever has ever had to anyone. My grief is griefier than your grief.









I have been trying hard to not steal my husband's dead brother thunder. 

His brother died 2 years ago, and it sucks. It sucks to lose one family member to cancer, but you know what sucks worse that that?! losing two. Both of our brothers, 100% of them, have died too young. 

Ever seen these pictures that say 'when I was a kid, we didn't come home until the street lamps came on, and we drank water from the hose, and all that other BS, And look at us, we turned out just fine'? Newsflash, we didn't.

Check out this somber news here. While overall rates of colorectal cancer have been falling dramatically since the mid-80s, there has been a steady uptick of incidents in people younger than 50. You can't swing a dead cat around my circle of friends without knowing someone that has lost a close friend or family member to cancer too young.

These social media posts make me irrationally angry. Listen here folks, our society works incessantly to improve. We as people should be working to improve, every day. Let's not go back to the dark ages.

Things we didn't used to know:

• heartburn can cause cancer
• race isn't biological
• a camera up your butt can save your life
• infants need to sleep on their backs/tummies/whatever is popular now
• breast milk is best
• car seats should be rear facing
• water shouldn't contain lead (actually we always knew this one)
• carbs are bad 
• calories are bad (remember Snackwells? cotton candy is fat free too, but it doesn't mean it is good for you)
• abandoned refrigerators are not as popular as GI Joe made me think
• bike helmets are necessary
• cigarettes are bad
• quicksand isn't common
• coconut oil is magical (Pinterest keeps trying to make me believe this, but I still don't buy into it)
• Heman was gay

I'm having a rough go of this grieving thing. Most days I'm freaking fantastic. But today is not one of those days. Get your guts and your butts checked.

Namaste and Fuck Cancer.

My cousin, the badass

I’m Amy and I am the one of Chip’s cousins. Our Moms are sisters and, as a family, we’ve always been extremely close. By age, I’m sandwiched between Rachel and Chip.

While the Rohrs did move around a lot, we remained close and we got together at every opportunity. I think back to the summer vacations we all spent at Sunset Beach, North Carolina.  For years, every summer, our two families would rent a beach house together and those weeks were some of the best weeks of my life.

Speaking of the beach… there’s one particular story I’d like to share that involves Chip and his (and my) loathing of chores.

Now, at the beach house, the Moms took care of the food. They pre-planned the meals before our arrival, they shopped at the local Food Lion, they cooked the dinners – and they were NOT going to be on clean-up duty. I get it. Totally fair.

So, with a house full of five kids, we became the clean-up crew. The first year, the Moms let us choose our partners. I paired up with Rachel and Chip, Becky, & Leah were the other team.

When the week was over, the Moms realized that this was a bad idea …… because Chip and I weren’t the hardest of workers. Rach ended up doing all the work on my team and Becky and Leah did all of the work on Chip’s team.

The Moms wised-up the following year (and all subsequent years) and assigned the following clean-up crews: Rachel and Becky, Chip and me, Leah and Uncle Walt (because yes, we have to bring Walt into the mix!)    

The Moms knew they had to put us two boneheads together.

And, looking back, it was a fine idea, but… it took Chip and me FOREVER!

I mean, before we could clean off the dinner table and start on the dishes we needed to set the tone by choosing the right music to do the dishes to, and then we needed to show off our best dance moves to said music…

So, slowly, very slowly, but very groovily, we eventually finished the task.

I think back at these yearly dish-duty memories, and so, so many others, with a smile.

Now, as much as Chip could be a goof-ball (and yes, that was most of the time), he could also be serious. Chip could talk with anyone of any age.  Whether it was his 3-year-old niece or his 93-year old grandfather, Chip had this natural ability to connect with everyone.

The four of us standing up here  (Rachel, Leah, Becky and myself) collectively have 160 years of memories of Chip. We’ve seen it all: the good and the bad, the triumphs and the defeats, the smiles and the tears, and the love --- and there is ALWAYS love.

Now, I’d like to ask each of you to all take a few seconds to think about Chip and the absolute joy he brought to all of our lives.

When I think about my younger cousin, I think about his contagious smile, the glimmer in his eye when he was up to no good, or that infectious giggle. God, that giggle.

Today … my heart is broken and dark, but underneath that – deeper into my being – into my soul – there is a warmth that grows when I think about Chip.

That warmth WILL take over and WILL endure forever as we all continue to share the positive impact he had over all of us. It’s now our task to keep alive that Chipper magic.

One of Chip’s last wishes was to have the four of us up here together to speak. I am beyond honored that we could fulfill his wish.

I love you, Chip.

Baby Brothers, Barbies, Bikes & Bullies

This is Rachel's Eulogy for Chip

Thank you all for being here today.  I am Rachel, Chip’s older sister.  Chip was born 5 days before my 4th birthday when we lived in Heidelberg, Germany.  I remember the day he came home from the hospital.  It was like getting a really cool birthday present, but I’m not going to lie and say I was 100% excited about getting a baby brother.  I was mostly excited, but I had been the star of the show up until this point so some adjustments were necessary on my part.  

I did take my job as his big sister very seriously, though.  I loved to have someone to play with, to protect, to take care of, and most of all, to boss around.  Chip was an easy going and fun-loving kid, and he let me boss him around a lot, because he had this uncanny ability to let things just roll off his back.  He usually wasn't the biggest guy in the room, but I guarantee he was the guy with the kindest, biggest heart.  He had a wide open personality that invited people in for a bear hug, figuratively.  And sometimes literally, whether you liked it or not.  He was also a typical pesky little brother who gave me fits sometimes.  We have amazing, wonderful parents and our baby sister, Leah, came along in 1980 and we adored her.

Our dad was in the Army, so we moved a lot.  I mean A LOT.  Many of you are Air Force people, and you have to move what? Every 4 years?  That’s cute.  For a period of time, the Army moved the Rohr family every year.  At Christmas.  Chip went to 5 different elementary schools, I went to 6 and Leah went to 3.  At each new place we always had each other, though.  We played like we were best friends and fought like normal siblings do.  Chip and I played with our Fisher Price jeep and canoe camping set in the creek next to our apartment in Georgia.  We played with our Star Wars figures and we played Barbies.  We played in the snow in New Jersey.  We rode our bikes in the field across from our house in Maryland.  We moved back to Germany and then on to El Paso, Texas, and after that, Virginia Beach.   We always went home to Pennsylvania for holidays with cousins, grandparents, and aunts and uncles.  These moves shaped us and bonded us together and I don’t think any of us would have traded that life for anything.

One time in New Jersey when Chip was preschool age, two of the heads, just the heads, from my Barbie dolls mysteriously went missing.  I couldn’t find them anywhere, but I held onto those headless Barbie bodies hoping that the heads would turn up.  Eventually, mom made me throw them out, because broken toys do not make the cut when you are packing for your next move.  About a week later, after the trash had already gone out and been collected, Mom was going through toys in Chip’s room. Chip must have known the jig was up, because he very sheepishly produced both of the missing Barbie heads.  I’m not sure where he was hiding them or why, but I guess this is when he developed his thing for beautiful blondes.  I was so mad at him, but his ability to make me laugh meant that I couldn’t stay mad at him for any length of time. 

We all know Chip loved to have fun and, often he was the fun.  If something wasn’t fun, Chip brought the fun. Growing up, his love for fun and mischief sometimes got him in trouble, with mom and dad at home, or with kids on the playground.  I’m not sure what Chip did, but a couple of times he ticked off older, bigger kids in the neighborhood.  Whatever he did, I’m sure it was funny.  He told me that Steve Terhune or Ricky Grossclose (actual names of bullies by the way) were picking on him.  No one was allowed to mess with my little brother.  Except me, of course.  I would then have to hunt the bully down, smack him, and yell at him to stop messing with my little brother. All in a day’s work when you're the oldest sibling. Naturally, as Chip got older he needed me less and less for this and he began to do this for Leah.   When he was diagnosed with cancer it took me back to being that 10 year old kid ready to go toe-to-toe with anyone, or anything, to protect my little brother.  I wished it was as simple as slapping a bully away from him.  Unfortunately, cancer doesn’t work that way. 

Chip lived four and a half years with a devastating diagnosis.  I think his ability to always look for the humor, seek out the fun, and let things roll off his back helped him get through this.  The love and support he got from Jenny and the utter joy Avery gave him kept him going.  He always had a twinkle in his eye and I see that same twinkle in Avery’s eye.  I know that he is still with us.  We love you, Chip, and we always will. 

Eulogy for Chip

Rachel’s husband, Dave, and I have a lot in common. We have a number of shared experiences that most don’t have. Mainly we both know how difficult it is to be a new guy in this family. We share this special bond.
Dave and I both know what it’s like to have dinner with the Rohr’s and hear them all talk about Chip for an entire evening. It’s really tough to live up to the amazing Chip Rohr. I want to go on record with saying that I was never impressed with Chip. The way I looked at it, I was much better than him. I’m taller, I’m funnier, I’m better at telling stories, I’m better with impressions, I joined an actual branch of the military not just some social club with airplanes.

I never understood the fascination with him. I just wished for one second that my mother-in-law, my wife, his cousins, my sister-in-law, his nieces, his daughter, his friends, his college classmates, his high school classmates, everyone he met could shut up about how amazing this guy is.  

Over the years as Chip and I grew closer, he only became more annoying.
He was always concerned about how I was doing. He wouldn’t leave it alone, he would call up and just want to talk about football and how his niece was doing. Whenever we hung out he would always bother everyone by making sure we had everything we needed. It was such a pain how he made everyone feel welcome and comfortable. Then he would monopolize all conversations by telling a dumb story that made everyone laugh. He was nothing but trouble. 

When I came home from combat, he would, like a punk, listen to my stories and ask stupid poignant questions about my experiences and he would really listen to what I had to say. 
He always cared. He had the heart of a lion. He was loyal to a fault. He always made sure that people were having a good time. He left this world a better place than he found it. That’s what is really upsetting. There’s no way I can live up to that.

About a year ago, my brother died from colon cancer. So sadly, I have some experience in this.  

As people, we like to come up with sayings that help ease the pain. A lot of times these phrases and sayings help us express the emotion of the situation without having to come up with something on our own. We say these things because it guides us through a time where saying much else would lead to tears. When it comes to dealing with death, we go to these sayings quite frequently. It makes us feel better, and there’s nothing wrong with that. It helps us heal. Examples include:
“He’s in a better place”
“There’s no more suffering”
“He went peacefully”

There are two sayings that I’ve hated when it comes to cancer:
1) “They lost their battle with cancer.”
This makes it seem like there is something to be won. Cancer doesn’t fight like this. Cancer doesn’t care about battles and wins. Cancer is a killer. You don’t win a battle with a murderer. You either survive or you don’t. This phrase also makes it seem like our brothers were defeated by cancer. I disagree. Our brothers were killed by cancer. Even at the very end neither Chip nor my brother were defeated.
2) They passed away.
My brother and Chip were far too young to use this saying. It has always seemed too passive for my taste. It feels like we are trying to hide the reality of the situation. The phrasing never felt real enough for me. It never felt to me that they passed away. It always felt like they were ripped away. They didn’t pass away, they were stolen from us.

And here we are again facing another tragedy. I would be doing Chip a disservice if I didn’t include a little impromptu history lesson here, so here goes...

There was mention of something from the American soldiers who liberated concentration camps during World War II. They talked about the “banality of evil.” There is a point when faced with so much tragedy that it becomes mundane. The soldiers who liberated concentration camps came to a point where the horror became every day, almost routine. To a lesser extent, I faced it myself during my time in combat. There would be an attack, or an IED detonation and one soldier would be killed. It got to a point where your first response was “Oh thank God it was just one person killed.” The tragedy became normal. It was part of your experience.
But that was war. You knew going in that it could be horrible. We chose to face those horrors so others wouldn’t have to. It is the price that we pay to protect others from the madness of war. We carry that with us.

 Today it’s not the same. I have lost my brother and my brother-in-law to something different. Cancer crept into their bodies and wreaked havoc. Both gave cancer a run for its money. I don’t know how they did it, but both died without cancer crushing their spirit. But where does that leave us? What do we do with all of this grief? How are we supposed to keep going with all this tragedy?

What is the lesson that we are supposed to learn?

This last one has been bothering me for a while now. I have lived my life with the assumption that there is something to be learned even from the worst situations. But I honestly don’t know what we are supposed to learn from this.

I can tell you what I do know though: In the darkest times, where it all seems overwhelming, where we can’t help but be filled with rage at these circumstances, where you think that this pain is yours alone.  The good people around us will lift us up. We are never alone in our grief. We are here for each other. Whenever there is tragedy, good people step up and I see that here today.

I know that we have to actively battle despair. It will sneak up on you and drag you down for years if you let it. We must fight every day.

And I know that as long as we keep sharing our memories of those who we’ve lost, they are never truly gone.

Love you, Bro.

Leah's Eulogy for Chip: 

Chip was many things to all of us, an awesome brother, son, cousin, husband, friend and father. There are a lot of wonderful things to remember about him, but the most important was his amazing talent for making us love the things that he loved. He loved movies, music, good company and food, … and oh yeah, jaeger bombs.

If there was ever anyone that wanted to share his experiences with you, it was Chip.  He was always an entertainer, even as a little guy, he was a great story teller, a real mother goose. He had an ability to quote movies and get accents and impressions down, I won’t try to mimic that talent here, but he was charismatic and warm and made everyone feel comfortable. To see a movie through his eyes was to see it in brighter colors.

Music was an important thread that wove through Chip’s life with inspiration from our Aunt Robin and our Cousins, Amy and Becky, and our ever-so-awesome sister, Rachel. He took me to my first concert and we went to dozens more together.

He loved to air drum. Now, this is no easy feat but he used to make it look easy. So easy, in fact, that I still try my very best to do the same while listening to Metallica alone in my own car. Air drumming is one of those things that you have to be extremely confident to do. You cannot be afraid to look ridiculous and bad-ass at the same time and Chip knew how to be both.

My mom and dad are fantastic and raised us well. So much of their best qualities were reflected in Chip. They will tell you that he was always nurturing. When I was a baby, he would climb into my playpen and make me laugh. I used to yell for him when he wasn’t around. He took care of me when I was a baby and then throughout my childhood.

All of my life he welcomed me into his antics.  Whether it was tagging along with him while he and his buddy threw water balloons at passing cars in Texas, or “letting me” lay down on the sidewalk so he could Ollie over me with his Powell Peralta skateboard (which mom only found out about when we were both in our thirties). He was light hearted and always up for anything. He let me hang out with him and his friends in high school and I then chose a college where I could be close to him.

He watched out for me and made sure I would be ok. Chip was through and through my big brother, but he also became the big brother to everyone he met. Once he joined the Air Force he would make dinners and welcome everyone into his home on holidays.  Those that couldn’t get home to visit with their own family would hang out with Chip, and he became many people’s new family. If you stopped by to visit while he was trudging through the thick of chemo, he would make sure that you were comfortable and had a blanket or a spot on the couch to cuddle with the dogs, putting your needs over his own, he loved to take care of those most important to him.

Chip always knew how to have fun (sometimes too much fun) and was constantly amazed with the world around him. Even when things got tough, he could lighten the mood with a joke.  His laughter, his attitude, and his love for everything were contagious. Chip was that guy that everyone wanted to be around because his happiness would emanate to the entire group. We were all lucky to know him.

After he met Jenny, we all knew they were great for each other. Jenny is also laid back and generous. The two of them fit well and became an admirable team, willing to take on the world of Dave Matthew’s concerts and eventually the beast of cancer.  Jenny became a Rohr by marriage and a saint by her actions. She took care of Chip in ways that no one else could, and she did so for four and a half years. We all were prepared for a sprint with this cancer journey and Jenny was well prepared for the marathon; because she knew he would fight like hell.

He went from being a great son and the best brother, Rachel and I could ever imagine, to being an amazing and silly uncle to Audrey, Maddie and Sofia, to then becoming the most wonderfully fun and light hearted father.

When Avery was born, he became complete. He always wanted to be a dad, Chip and Steph made an amazing human together and Avery was the light of his life. Avery has the best qualities of both her mom and her dad. She is smart and funny, generous and thoughtful.

Avery has been raised by four of the best people in the world, Chip and Jenny, Steph and Ryan, they all love her fiercely. Now three of them will continue to care for her and guide her and show her what an amazing person her father was.

When someone dies we want to focus on only great attributes but no one is shaped by all good. There are messy and scaly sharp edges to each of us. Those prickly bits define our soft fluffy edges and give them shape. At times my brother could be cynical and total know-it-all but he was also hilarious and kind. Like humans before him and all of us left after him, we all are combined with horrible and wonderful bits, swirling together marking territory and making memories.

We are all forever changed because of cancer, I have never hated something more. But it has shaded our good parts to be more defined and poignant. Good and bad we will never be the same. I’m not sure what stupid lesson we learn from someone we love being taken way too soon,  but I do know that Chip would have wanted us to remember the good, as we are all better people just for knowing him.

So Chip, for you, “Celebrate, we will, because life is short but sweet for certain”

Love you bro.

Just being there is enough

I have recently been given the honor of being with a dear friend, Carla, on the last day of her life. Let me tell you, it was effing tough. Being among her family and friends, while everyone tried to grasp the finality of death, is something that not many people go through. One minute our loved ones are with us and the next they are gone.

I have kept our daughter, Sofia, closely involved with all of these recent events. Over the past six months, her uncle and now her best friend's mother were taken way too soon from this earth, because of cancer. I have allowed her in on our talks of how shitty cancer is, I have cursed and cried in front of her and I have held her while she wept. Sofia still has a tender heart, and I fear mine is turning into a cold dead little nugget inside my chest. I see her cry for her uncles or for her friend and I am moved by how much she cares.

We have visited a few times over the past week, with Carla and her family, so that Sofia could just be there for her friend. Sometimes I wondered if I should be exposing Sofia to the final stages of life. If her seeing her uncle six months ago, or our friend six days ago, is too much for her to grasp. The end stages of life are tough even for adults to witness.
In the end, I decided that Sofia needs to witness extremely sick people just as she needs to see healthy people. She needed to just be present, while understanding that love is there when you come into our world as much as it is when you leave this world.

I had a talk with Sofia and her friend on the day that her mother, Carla, died. I told her that her mother was in a bad state and she would have to say goodbye to her when we got to her home. I then told Sofia's friend that no matter how much she tried, she wouldn't be able to get rid of Sofia and I in the coming days. I told this 10 year old girl that she would be so sick of us, and just wanting us to leave her alone because we are so lame and corny, and I made her laugh. Seconds after telling her she would have to say goodbye to her mom, she was laughing and joking that she already was sick of us. This kid is so strong and resilient and so quick to enjoy a moment and give a sarcastic remark, she is definitely her mother's daughter.

Sofia has been so worried for her friend and I hope that she has learned that just being there is enough. It is impossible to find the correct words to say or things to do, but just be present and light will find you.

Namaste Carla, and Peace be with your daughter and husband, we are here for all of you whether you like it or not!
And oh yeah, FUCK CANCER!

Ahh the magical holidays are back...

Matt and Sofia and I put up our Christmas tree last night and I found myself getting very emotional. The holidays are a difficult time for everyone, but this year, Matt no longer has a brother. Ryan was Matt's go-to guy to nerd out over things like video games and Star Wars. Matt is a closet nerd and he keeps trying to talk to me about Star Wars but I don't really know or care about the intricacies of the plot line.

I'm trying to make this year special for Matt because I know he is not in a good place.

Yesterday was a rough day for both of us, for no particular reason. It rained for three days straight, and I was listening to a lot of Emo. What really hit me though was Facebook showing me a particular "On this Day" picture of the two of us in the fall of 2012. Thank you Facebook for reminding me how thin and wrinkle free my body was just a short three years ago. The past three years have taken a toll on me mentally and physically.

November 2012 was a rough month. I had a miscarriage, I turned 32, my dad's uncle died and my brother was diagnosed with stage IV cancer.
My Brother found out the day before Thanksgiving, and my parents came to our home, in Charlottesville, on Thanksgiving, to drop off their dog. We dog sat for them for a few months while they traveled to Omaha to visit my brother.

This year, my brother will travel with his wife and daughter, to Virginia Beach. We are all looking forward to it, but I also understand that getting excited to see my brother is a reminder to Matt that he doesn't get to see his.

I guess adding on some weight and wrinkles isn't so bad when you consider the things we have been through as a couple in the past three years.

Since this picture was taken, we've been through:
11 months of unemployment
10 months of deployment
5 different jobs
3 dogs in our home
2 sick brothers
1 miscarriage
and a partridge in a pear tree.

May peace and joy find you this holiday season. Love the ones you are with, and send warm fuzzies to those that are far away. Namaste people.