Cher - at Chatterbox in Tekamah - always sharing her beauty with the world.

A Tribute to My Sister, Cher

One year ago today — May 20th — the world lost a light, and heaven gained an angel. My sister Cherie earned her wings, but her presence hasn’t dimmed for a moment. She is everywhere — in the laugh of someone who’s just told a good story, in the shimmer of something purple, in every memory that wraps around my heart like a hug.

Cherie was a force. You didn’t just meet her — you felt her. Vibrant didn’t even begin to cover it. She radiated passion and joy, and she lived boldly, with fire and kindness rolled into one. Whether she was tearing into a project at Valmont, where she poured more than 40 years of dedication, or showing up as the most loyal friend, loving daughter, devoted momma, or big sister who always had your back — she gave her all.

And purple? That wasn’t just her favorite color. It was her aura. Rich, royal, playful, strong. Just like her.

Cherie’s life was built on love — the kind of love that shows up when it counts, that speaks truth, that hugs hard and laughs louder. She knew how to make people feel seen. She had a quick wit, a huge heart, and a loyalty that never wavered.

Today, I write this with tears, yes — but also with deep, deep gratitude. For every moment I got to share with her. For the way she shaped me. For the joy she left behind in so many lives.

We miss you every day, Cherie. But your light hasn’t gone out — it just shines differently now.

Love you forever Cher, Your Baby Sister, Ang

The Signs Are Everywhere

When Cherie laughed, she laughed full body with you!!!

One year ago today, on May 20, 2024, the world lost a force of nature when my sister Cherie gained her angel wings after a fierce 19-month battle with glioblastoma. She was 69. But to say she’s “gone” doesn’t quite feel right—not when the signs of her are so vivid, so daily, so undeniable.

The signs are everywhere.

They appear when you least expect them—and also when you most need them.

Some people say grief is like a wave, but I’d say it’s more like a spotlight. It shifts the way you see the world—what was once ordinary becomes infused with meaning. Cardinals perched on a branch just long enough to be noticed. A lavender sunset that floods the sky in her favorite color. The owl statue at a gift shop. A stranger’s comment about the exact shade of purple on your fingernails. Or the chorus of “Dancing Queen” playing through the speakers when you walk into a bar. They’re in the shades of purple—lavender, plum, violet, lilac—that seem to follow us like a trail of breadcrumbs from heaven. It started last summer, subtly, and now it’s unmistakable. Purple is everywhere. Her favorite color has become her halo. These moments are her. They are Cherie saying: I’m still here. I see you. Keep going.

I’ve found myself believing that our loved ones don’t really leave us—they just find new ways to stay close. And Cherie? She’s been showing up.

The usual photo of us - massive smiles and giggles.

Last summer when Tim and I were at a Rolling Stones concert in Denver, the fire of rock ’n’ roll reminded me of the fire she kept in her heart. Even in a sold-out stadium, the empty chair next to us somehow felt like hers. When George Strait took the stage a few weeks before that, I noticed it again—the color purple dancing in the lights, a guitar strap, a flower crown. Her spirit was loud and proud.

Cherie was always larger than life in the best way. A radiant soul with a huge smile, a quick wit, and a contagious laugh. She could flirt, she could sass, and she could say exactly what was on her mind. She’d laugh if you fell, but she’d help you back up and tell the story better than anyone else later. She lived out loud—laughing, loving, organizing, showing up, and always keeping it real. Whether planning international events for Valmont or wrangling the chaos of family life, she had an uncanny ability to make everything seem easy. She brought the joy, brought the purple golf bag, and when it came to travel, she was usually packed and ready before anyone else had even started.

Connected and Engaged

Cherie was a daughter, sister, mom, aunt, Nonna, friend, coworker, organizer, decorator, cheerleader, planner, soft place to land, and fierce advocate for everyone she loved. She was the anchor of her family and a spark in every room.

She grew up the oldest of four on a farm, developing the resourcefulness and humor that would guide her life. She could sew, paint, make a killer throw on the softball field, decorate a house, organize a kitchen, and run a corporate event with the grace of a seasoned pro. At Valmont, she spent more than four decades bringing people together—literally building relationships and figuratively holding everything together through spreadsheets, travel, and a whole lot of behind-the-scenes magic.

She didn’t ask for credit—she just made you feel like a rockstar while quietly making everything run smoothly. Whether it was a business conference or a birthday party, she had the gift of knowing what people needed—sometimes before they did. When it came to her work and friendships, she would say that it’s all about being “connected and engaged.” And because of her repeated belief in this, we turned that into our MYLO 2025 theme: Connected and Engaged. And we feel that our clients are resonating with this mantra. Stop the fast-paced lifestyle, connect with your community, your tribe, your people and be eagerly present in these moments. From your personal to professional lives, being connected and engaged with your people is what truly makes life worthwhile. Cherie believed it wholeheartedly.

It Is What It Is

Her talents didn’t stop at work. She packed like a pro. Traveled like a curious adventurer. Played golf like it was a joy, not a competition. She knew flowers, loved bringing fruit to the family events (especially when she didn’t have to make anything else), and was the designated fryer supreme of all the delicious sunnies and northerns on our Minnesota trips.

She loved lilacs in the spring and mushrooms in May. She loved fishing with the kids, but mostly watching them light up. She loved the laughter around a happy hour table, especially if she could duck out with an Irish goodbye. She’d show up early, leave when it felt right, and always leave you wanting more.

Cherie didn’t just accept life. She embraced it. She had a mantra—simple, but fierce: It is what it is. It wasn’t resignation. It was resilience. When she got the news that she had a brain tumor, she didn’t fall into despair. She planned a trip to Italy five months later. She took calls, booked flights, made memories, laughed hard, lived harder.

Chill, Already!

I love all my memories of my sister. As I turned sixty a couple of weeks ago on the 5th of May, I was thinking, as I always did, that only nine days later, Cherie would have turned 70. Being ten years apart, I always looked to her and thought, if I can look as good as her and be as spirited and energetic as her in ten more years, then I will be doing awesome! She was my inspiration! I miss her on the daily. I even went to text her a couple weeks back. Crazy how she stays with me like that. I miss her bounding into our studio for a Valmont meeting or a party. I miss her texting to meet for a Happy Hour. I miss her broad smile and how she could laugh away things that I took too seriously when I really didn’t need to. I miss how she could anticipate things on my behalf even though she knew I would have to figure it all out in my own time. I miss how she just stood for who she was and didn’t worry about how the rest of the world was going to process it. She was a good person. She did good things. She loved big in the quietest of ways. Her faith was strong and deep in her soul. So why get your panties in such a wad? Control what you can control and the rest? Well, the rest….. it is what it is.

Now, to honor her legacy, we’re launching something special—an “It Is What It Is” collection of merch, with proceeds going toward glioblastoma research. It's our way of keeping her spirit moving in the world. It’s purple, it’s powerful, and it’s for a cause we now hold close to our hearts.

Sisters. Ang, Tam & Cher! Cherie’s Birthday a couple years back.

Find your Sass in the Ordinary

Charm (she has her angel wings too), Becky & Cher hitting the links at a Logan View Alumni Golf Outing.

Because when you lose someone like Cherie, you start looking at the world differently. You start noticing. You become more aware of the signs, of the thin veil between here and there. You find her in song lyrics, road signs, flower pots, nail polish compliments. You spot her in a moment of laughter or a flash of sass in your own voice.

You find peace—not in moving on, but in moving forward with her as your compass.

This spring, we also said goodbye to our Dad, Norman, who gained his wings in April. And strangely, beautifully, there’s a comfort in it. Knowing they’re together. Knowing they’re with us. I believe that’s the gift of faith: understanding that we are not alone. That this life isn’t all there is. That there is a forever, and it’s filled with love.

Always lovin’ and fishin’! Here with Brylen in Minnesota!

Always the Dancing Queen

And so today, as we honor Cherie one year later, I don’t just grieve—I give thanks. I give thanks for every vivid sign, every flash of purple, every owl, every Dancing Queen sing-along. I give thanks for the ways her love keeps showing up. For the strength she gave me. For the forgiveness we found. For the beautiful, loving, forgiving, incredible relationship we shared.

We are all going to gain our wings one day. Life is short, and it’s messy, and it’s beautiful. It’s the signs, the stories, the laughter, the faith. It’s showing up for each other. It’s being present. It’s believing that even when someone leaves this world, they never truly leave us.

Cherie’s signs are everywhere.

You just have to choose to see them.

Sisters, Sisters, There Were Never Such Devoted Sisters….