In this holiday season of gratitude, I am thankful for so much this year. But perhaps the person I am most thankful for right now is my older sister, Sharon Denise Stone, who died in 2015 at age 49 of cancer.
Sharon had set an example for me through her actions. She was the first and only one of four siblings to graduate from high school, at Snyder High School in Jersey City, New Jersey. Then she was the first in my family to earn a college degree, from University of North Carolina, Wilmington.
Her resiliency and academic achievements inspired me to take advantage of educational opportunities at my eastern New Jersey prison, Edna Mahan Correctional Facility. I obtained my GED diploma in 2000. Then in the fall of 2015, following in the footsteps of my big sis, I graduated magna cum laude with an associate’s degree in liberal arts from Raritan Valley Community College. Three years later, I walked the aisle again, this time graduating summa cum laude, with a bachelor’s degree in justice studies from Rutgers University.
At each graduation ceremony, our class walked across the aisles in caps, gowns and sashes over our prison khakis. Looking out at my family, I could feel my sister’s presence there with us as we always planned she would be.
Although my sister battled drug addiction most of her life, she always looked out for me. One day, when I was about 11 years old, she realized I had seen a strange baggy on top of our bathroom sink. She took me by both hands, bending down to reach me at eye level, and in a stern tone of voice and expression told me to never use drugs or to do what she did. I never did.
Even after I went to prison, my sister supported me without hesitation. I was able to pick up the telephone and call her whenever I needed to hear her voice.
She also sent me money regularly and wrote me letters. Inside my Bible, I carry a bookmark from one of the last cards I received from her. It reads, “Sisters [are] special people who are thought of lovingly, [and] remembered in the warmest way whatever the day may be.”
Every time my sister traveled from North Carolina to visit family in New Jersey, she always stopped to see me in prison. I am thankful for the pictures we took together, the smiles and laughter we shared and the memories we created.
Before her death, my sister got sober and settled in Wilmington. There, she was able to turn her adversity into purpose. She earned a bachelor’s degree in social work, and became a certified substance abuse counselor. Along with two college friends, she founded a drug rehabilitation center in Wilmington that has helped many people navigate addiction recovery.
We never knew how many lives my sister impacted or all that she had accomplished until after she died. So many people loved, respected and admired her that she had two funeral services — one in North Carolina and another in New Jersey. Heartfelt condolences filled up her Facebook page. Many people felt like she was their sister.
As I have matured, I have realized that my big sister played a major role in the resilient woman I am today. I have followed her path, persevering through adversity, and discovered my purpose: To affect change throughout the criminal justice system by way of policy reforms. One day, after my sentence ends, I want to start a trauma-informed halfway house for incarcerated women leaving New Jersey prisons.
I am thankful for all that my sister poured into me, her baby sis.
