Karen Cartwright, aged 9 (1974)

Finding my sister

Many friends and colleagues who know me may be vaguely aware that I had a sister that died when I was very young. Some may even recall that she died of leukemia, and those that know me well might even remember her name, Karen. To many, she would remain a footnote – a fact from my past. I, up until recently, had only fleeting memories of Karen. I can recall what her bedroom looked like (the one she shared with our big sister Teresa), with that poster of David Soul taped on to the inside of her cupboard door. I remember sitting in the back of my mum’s red Transit van with Karen and her friend (Christine) outside her house, eating crisps. I also remember very clearly sitting with Karen in our living room, with her telling me she was going to get better soon; three weeks before she died. However, these memories have taken their toll over the years… so much so, that I have struggled to remember the date of her birthday, let alone when she died. Over the years, Karen has been slowly fading from my memory. She became a family fact to state to people when the situation appeared appropriate. Then, a few days ago, I started to think about Karen again. I don’t know why, but I started to test my memory on what I could recall. I then realised that I didn’t even have a photograph to show anyone; not one digitally scanned at least. That was it… I decided to make it my personal mission to find my Karen again.

Karen kept this card because they had an uncanny resemblance to her gran’s chihuahuas.

The box.

I had a small box containing some of her belongings, kept safe in the loft along with some photos that never really saw the light of day. After bringing the box down, I started to go through it. Contained within were mainly booklets, diaries, and a couple of calendars. There was a toy sailor’s hat, a tin containing her tools for her pottery class with Mrs Ashcroft, and a folder full of ‘Get Well Soon’ wishes from her fellow classmates from Bushloe High School (Form 1N, Mrs Smith), with crosswords and drawn outline pictures of butterflies, birds and horses for Karen to colour in. Then there were all the school books, coursework: Creative writing, Humanities, Geography, and her Rough Books, saved from the last two years before she died.

Memories restored and more…

Sitting in the loft looking at this wealth of information I was able to confirm my shaky memory of dates, and to my surprise I found out that Karen passed away 40 years to the day. She died on the 15th June 1977, after two years fighting leukaemia; 11 weeks before her 13th birthday. The timing came as a huge shock to me – I must have known somehow. Well, knowing this, I just had to keep going. I wanted to know more about her. So, I embarked on reading through some of her coursework and I could feel her personality returning to me… Somehow, by the way it was written, these notes had the look and feel as if it was written yesterday. It genuinely felt like she was there; and when she mentioned my name – well, the emotions really hit me. A heady mix of happiness and wonder in finding her again, followed by a huge loss in knowing that she’s gone. Below are some of the last written extracts by Karen in her own words. To many, she was known as ‘Kazzy’, the fun loving redhead, who had a huge imagination, a love of dogs, family and music. I remember her to be one half of a creative duo (Karen & Teresa), embarking on adventures making cine film animations with their toy Pippa dolls, playing her clarinet, and teasing me with spooky stories.

Karen’s draft of an essay on her family for English class at Bushloe High School: August 1976.

A draft letter to one of her friends, Christine Green: c. December 1976.

Karen at Glenmere Primary School, age 10 (1975)

A short story by Karen, for English at Bushloe High School.

Using my father’s work memo notepaper, Karen and Christine play: c. 1974.

Karen’s “Kissing Licence”, signed by all… c. 1976

Karen’s account of Christmas in the Cartwright’s household. December 1976.

Karen J Cartwright (1976).

Leukaemia

I also remember the moment when Karen came into the kitchen complaining about a sore throat to my mother. She had just returned from school (Glenmere) and I was sitting on the kitchen server next to the cooker, facing the door she’d just entered. I remember mum looking at Karen as she explained that the sore throat was right across her neck from ear to ear.

I cannot imagine the pain our parents must have gone through during her illness, knowing what would, at that time, be almost inevitable. I’m sad that they’re no longer with us. Maybe it would be too painful for them to answer my questions, but I’m grateful that I’ve had this opportunity to learn, almost first hand, what was important to Karen just before we lost her.

She will remain in my thoughts and will no longer be just a vague memory from my past. Karen is much loved and sorely missed.

Photo archive of Karen and family.

Cancer Research UK

Leukaemia CARE