Corinna

Many of us lead our lives without considering our health as something special or important. It's almost taken for granted that we are healthy and often ignored until something unexpected occurs. It happens to many of us that suddenly we are thrust into absolute chaos, losing control of ourselves. I witnessed this firsthand as a young child; I was around three when my sister, born on December 23, 1978, fell severely ill after receiving a vaccination from a supposed nurse in a UK hospital. This nurse administered the shot while she had the flu. Within a week, my mother found her unresponsive and completely paralyzed at the age of two, just as she had started talking.

This moment is etched in my memory forever—the screams and desperation of my parents, the ensuing chaos over weeks and months as we tried to understand what had happened. We were informed that she had a reaction to the vaccine, resulting in a blood clot in her brain that deprived her of vital oxygen. After that incident, she was never the same, and neither was our family. Corinna was a soul, and now, in hindsight, I sense that she came here to experience exactly what she went through, teaching everyone around her the art of suffering.

Many of us, being logical, forget that we are spiritual beings here for a brief moment to experience, live, love, teach, cry, laugh, and sometimes even sing. We forget that we are all teachers for each other in this magical existence called life, whether we are aware of it or not. Throughout our time on this earth, there have been many people who came to teach about suffering and, despite it, managed to give love, smile, and stay pure of heart.

Corinna was not famous or well-known, but the hospice where she stayed knew her until the end when she passed away at the age of 33. She was known as someone who always laughed because that was all she could do. She would also cry, mainly due to the pain. Since birth, Corinna was on various medications for her seizures and epileptic fits. Still, she continued to smile despite being unable to walk, talk, use the bathroom, or do anything for herself.

During her life, many would visit and love her because she radiated a beautiful light from her eyes and heart. I remember visiting her in 2009, a year or so before she died, sitting on the floor with her, sensing that she understood more than anyone realised. We were best friends when she was small, inseparable until she became handicapped. Looking back, I believe she truly came here to suffer and show others that life can still be beautiful despite personal hardships.

We have all witnessed or experienced suffering, pondered deeply on the lessons it imparts, or is currently teaching us. Suffering, though often unrecognized, is a gift. In it, we witness the breaking open of the human heart, and through that, immense healing may occur if we can let go of control and surrender ourselves to something bigger, higher, and more spiritual than ourselves. It is always a gift. Thank you, Corinna, for being a saintly figure for me, witnessing it all and bringing with it the empathy and love of a divine, holy heart. You will always be my little, most loved sister.