She was born Carol Jean Lee on August 24th, 1953 in a building on Coloma Road between Watervliet and Coloma, Michigan that she always joked later housed the Arrow Pet Clinic. She graduated from Coloma High School in 1971, and married me on May 20th, 1972. We were married for 36 years and had two sons, Justin, born in 1976 and Joshua, born in 1980. Carol was baptized at the Coloma Church of Christ in 1986. Here she is at the age of 25. We had been married for seven years at the time. I always thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. This is how I always saw her and will always remember her.

Carol's parents preceded her in death. Her father, Andrew, died in 1988, and her mother, Ruby, died in 2004. Carol never really got over the death of her parents. She also had one brother who died in 2006. She is survived by two other brothers, a sister, and many cousins, nieces and nephews.

Carol was the last of five surviving children born to her parents, and was a menopause baby. For over thirty years she had a host of health problems, including diabetes which was discovered in 2000, that may have been due in part to her mother's poor health, particularly when she was pregnant with Carol. For years I heard from both Carol and her sister that all her mother ate during that pregnancy was ice chips.

In spite of all that Carol was a vibrant, determined, and creative person. She had her own thoughts and wasn't afraid to express them. Over the years she worked at a number of jobs and always stood out as her own person. But she did tend to be quite a pessimist, much like her mother with whom she was very close, especially after the passing of her father.

In 1994 we were hit from behind by another car, causing Carol to suffer some minor injuries, one of the remedies for which was getting a massage. This piqued her interest and the next year she went to massage school in Kalamazoo. It turned out that she had a gift for that kind of work, and over the next dozen years or so she helped heal hundreds of people, many of whom became regular clients of hers, some for over ten years. Several attended her funeral.

They say her hands worked magic. She somehow could tell that one client had poor circulation and needed to get her heart checked out, the result of which led that client a few years later to have a heart transplant. She is still alive today and gives Carol all the credit for saving her life. Other clients have similar though less dramatic stories they could tell about her. All of her clients loved her, and it was common for them to hug or just chat on the phone.

Carol even did a few massages for people while they were patients in the hospital. One, a stroke victim, began regaining his speech during her massage. And Carol always gave free massages to cancer patients.

When her mother had a stroke in December of 1994 the responsibility of caring for her fell to Carol, which quickly became a daily requirement, often several times a day. Being a massage therapist made it possible to juggle caring for her mother and scheduling clients at free times. Her caring for her mother added another ten years to her life until she passed four years ago.

During all this time Carol suffered from fibromyalgia and other maladies including diabetes and saw a host of doctors in an effort to get her own physical pains relieved, even while she was relieving the pains of many others through her massages. There never was much success in that effort. And yet, even though at times she could barely get herself out of bed, she insisted on scheduling clients and keeping those appointments. Late last year she even did a few massages while wearing a small portable oxygen bottle! I just couldn't get her to take it easy. One of her regulars said at the time that "She's still got it." meaning the touch, the gift of healing. The name she gave her business was so appropriate, A Healing Time.

Over the years Carol developed a strong interest in her Cherokee heritage and did a lot of research into her family history. A vacation we took in 1999 was devoted to research in North Carolina, Tennessee, Missouri, Illinois and Arkansas. We went to numerous Pow Wows, and at one in Wisconsin Carol was invited to become an honorary princess of a Warrior tribe by their chief. That same year, 2003, the Potawatamies "adopted" her, renaming her Sacred Rose Shawl Woman. Here she is in her Trail of Tears dress and at that Wisconsin Pow Wow just five years ago.

Last year she was instrumental in getting me to the hospital in time to keep my heart attack from becoming more serious. It was only six weeks later when she was diagnosed with cancer.

The last year had been quite a struggle for her with both successes and setbacks. She had seven rounds of chemo as well as radiation and later brain radiation treatments, handling it all better than anyone expected.

But even in the midst of all those treatments she still had ideas of how to help other patients. During one round of chemo she overheard another patient complaining about how there was nothing to do, so Carol decided to organize a 'cancer dance' for patients and their families. She got the D.A.N.K. to donate their hall, the Mad Hatters to donate their DJ expertize, and Martin's Supermarket to donate refreshments, and then began spreading the word through various agencies and the newspaper about this totally free event, and in late February it was held.

Although attendance was less than hoped for a good time was had by all who did attend, and preliminary plans were made for a second dance to be held sometime in the future. So Carol was not afraid to try big ideas. Here we are at that dance. She had two more weeks of brain radiation therapy to go at the time.

All of this represents just a tiny fraction of the things Carol was always doing for other people, often known only to them and me. And now you.

But in the end, just when it appeared the cancer might have been beaten, it came back with a vengeance and won, taking her from us at midnight, August 9th, 2008, just two weeks shy of what would have been her 55th birthday. Way too young.

She leaves behind a huge group of family, friends, and clients, all of whom will miss her a great deal, none more than me.