In loving memory of Barbara L. Audi (November 4, 1960 – July 25, 2025)
I begin to write, walk away, come back, edit, rephrase. I want to say the right things to honor my sister – but what can I say to paint the picture skillfully enough? I can only hope her amazing soul somehow shines through my words. I’ll be editing this a lot until I’m happy with what I say and how I say it.
My name is Amy, but the name on my original birth certificate is Christina Ann Sweet. I didn’t know it, or have access to that birth certificate, until early 2017 when I found my biological family. In an instant I went from an only child to the youngest of 5 on my birth mother’s side and the oldest of 3 on my birth father’s side.
This was a lot to process.
The first sibling I met was Barbara, third born of our mother, Marilyn. Barbara was 9 years older than me and lived just 20 minutes away for most of our lives, though of course neither of us knew it.
When I worked up the courage to call her for the first time, her answering machine picked up. Barb’s husband Mickey heard my brief explanation on the message, and in shock, handed the phone to Barbara. The minute she understood this was real, she asked, “how soon can you get here?”
I drove there right quick and she immediately threw her skinny arms around me in a tight hug. “My sweet baby sister!” she cried joyfully, holding on as though I’d run away if she let go. She had been looking for me – and wanting her “baby sister” – since I was born but not brought home. Of all possible reactions to my sudden appearance, this is the last one I’d imagined.
And yet here we were, so obviously sisters. Same lanky frame, same facial features, same mannerisms. For the first time in my life I resembled a family member…one who loved me unconditionally right from the get-go. Amazing.
For the next 8 and a half years, my big sister Barb was my friend, confidant, partner in crime, and biggest fan.
Barb welcomed me into her home and family, wholly and with no hesitation. We discovered we had very similar taste in music, clothes, activities, you name it.
The first time she walked me around her property, in fact, she paused by a creek and asked sheepishly, “is it weird if I want to play with rocks right now?” “Wait, what?” I cried. “I play with rocks! Let’s play with rocks!” And so we did, like two little kids.
When I visited, I nearly always brought along glue sticks and magazines, and we’d make collages together, telling Alexa to play Crosby Stills and Nash, Van Morrison, CCR, or the Eagles. She preferred the Rolling Stones and I, the Beatles — but we loved so many of the same things that I began to understand how we humans are definitely products of both nature and nurture.
I got to meet our older brother, Philip, the next summer when we planned a stay at the beach nearest him; he lived in Enterprise, Alabama at the time, so I drew a line from there down to the ocean and hit Panama City Beach, Florida, on the panhandle. Barbara and I flew down, he drove to us, and we had a wonderful reunion-vacation together. We loved it so much that she and I vacationed there together 3 more times, creating shell pictures, adopting beach cats, and making up stories about the people passing by our porch.
In almost every photo I have of us, Barb is either holding on to me, looking at me lovingly, or both.
Sometimes she would take my hand and simply say “I just adore you.”
I basked in her love, maybe even took for granted that it – and she – would always be there.
Though she never met Jonah, she always asked about him and she kept a photo of him on her fridge.
My big sister was ornery and obstinate, loving and accepting. Her laugh was loud and infectious, and she was all kinds of fun. She was imaginative, inventive, and incredibly kind. She rescued animals and people alike, collecting strays and hearts along the way. She exemplified her maiden name, Sweet, in everything she did.
She even found four leaf clovers all the time (and proved this to me one day by finding 2 in less than 5 minutes)! She enjoyed antiques and pottery and plants, and she loved her children, grandchildren, father, friends, and family so very much. She made friends with strangers everywhere she went in a way I’ve never witnessed but always admired. She was a strong, free spirit and a bright, lovely soul. Barbara was nothing less than a gift from God, and I’m so grateful I had her for as long as I did.
The services are tomorrow. Her daughter Robin and I plan to wear colorful dresses to celebrate her life. Barb’s favorite color was yellow – the color of warm sunshine, sweet honey, sour lemons (a flavor we both love) and so very many different kinds of beautiful birds and flowers.
So shine on, sweet sister. I will miss you and love you always.
The Never Normal 