She told us it made her butt look better in her True Religion jeans.

I told my sister it was from all the squats she had been doing. It was weird though, because only one of the signature horseshoes was pushing out further on her pockets. Then sitting began to hurt. Sharp pains persisted in her leg. Maybe this wasn’t from the squats.

Then it all made sense. What started out as a joke became a little bit more serious. Never did we think this bulge from her butt would be a tumor, and never did my

family think my sister would be fighting for her life at the young age of 22. My sister, Rachel Sandler, graduated from the University of Arizona and was a member of the Delta Gamma Sorority. She had all the spunk in the world, and never stopped laughing and smiling. She was a dancer, a healthy girl and was always the life of the party. Standing at a whopping four feet, nine inches tall, she was a bundle of energy, love, attitude and compassion. Even with seeing doctors every day and sitting in hospital rooms with a chemo IV attached to her, she still managed to maintain this smile that all of her friends and family knew and loved. The doctors explained that with these sorts of tumors, known as a nerve-sheath tumor, only three percent of them were actually malignant. Why did she have to be one of those unlucky three percent? I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was sitting on my couch when my parents returned home from the oncologist in tears, only to tell me news that would change everything as we knew it. The weird thing was that my sister showed no fear. She looked as though she was ready to kick this cancer's butt and get back to partying her face off, as she did plenty of during her time at Arizona. The cancer was merciless. A few months in to treatment, her “jean-shaping” tumor multiplied into five tumors on her brain, which spread as two tumors on her lungs. Then it grabbed her spine and our family “joke” had engulfed her entire body. Yet that smile never went away. Bald, emaciated, and exhausted from treatments, she still maintained that infectious smile. From what I could understand, there was one obvious reason why that smile never disappeared: true friends. Once news leaked out through social media, our phones started ringing off the hook; Delta Gamma nationals, the school, friends of friends, dance coaches, teachers, neighbors and many others that knew my sister at some point reached out. But the majority of these loyal and loving calls came from her friends. There was one common denominator between this influx in calls: Greek life. Yes, the hometown friends came to support, but it was the sorority sisters and fraternity men from college that made this terminal process less painful. Once the hospital felt the need to move my sister to hospice, the masses of phone calls became personal visits. Every day there were new people there, leaving their jobs from around the country to visit Rachel at the hospice house. Some of the girls started creating scrapbook pages to hang in my sister’s personal room to give the white walls some character. Cards Against Humanity was the game of choice and a Fourth of July celebration lit up the whole hospice house. The Delta Gamma philanthropy chairwoman at the time even started a charity fund, selling silicon bracelets that read “Live, Laugh, Love,” and donated the proceeds in my sister’s name. My family really felt the love. From pictures of Birthright to weekenders in Vegas to God knows where some of these crazy pictures were taken, that smile never left her face. It was her sisters that kept hers and my family’s spirits up. The acts of Rachel’s sorority sisters kept not only my family well-spirited, but the others suffering in the hospice house, and even the hospice nurses. It was actually one big party over there. Easily 60 of Rachel’s sisters showed up to be with my family as we hoped for the best. Today we see this epidemic of how Greek life on our campus is ridiculed, for what the media is labeling Greeks, as “drunken idiots,” and what outsiders think is just “buying your friends.” This first-hand experience of seeing the passionate love Rachel’s friends showed her, and the support these supposed “drunken idiots” showed my parents while their daughter was terminally ill, convinced me to be a part of Greek life. It was my mission to have friends like these, so I became a member of Sigma Alpha Mu, where I served as the Philanthropy Director for three semesters. Unfortunately it took the death of my sister for me to really figure out what real friends are. Those you laugh with at random stuff, the ones you take endless amounts of selfies with, the ones that stand by your bedside when you need them most and the ones that will spoon-feed you when your arms are too weak to do it yourself, those are true friends. Not the ones you text and hang out with occasionally, not the ones that you go out with and call it a good time and not the ones that send you the answers to your ECON200 test. I am proud to say that the University of Arizona Greek Life Association is what kept that smile on my sister’s face until her passing seven months after her diagnosis. If it weren’t for her sorority sisters, my parents and I wouldn’t have laid my sister to rest as peacefully as we did. The funeral was standing room only and attended by almost 500 people, closing out the final chapter of my sister’s life with true friends. As the years go on, the birthdays and holidays have been the hardest. It kills my parents inside to see Rachel’s sorority sisters getting promotions at work, graduating grad school and in some cases getting married and moving up in the world. This past August, Rachel’s best friend and sorority sister, Erin, gave my parents a call. It was a pre-invite to her wedding in Seattle. Given the situation, and knowing that my parents would never see their daughter walk down the aisle, Erin asked us to be a part of the wedding. She asked my father and me to recite a prayer during the ceremony and asked my mother if she would take the honor to bear witness on the marriage license. There were hundreds of people in Erin’s life, but she wanted to give my mother that opportunity. I’ve never been so happy for my parents. It’s these kinds of gestures that really show the qualities of a best friend. I’ve become closer to my family and see the world differently knowing that life can take a turn for the worst in seconds. I challenge everyone to have that best friend that would make a gesture like this toward you if tragedy struck. If you have that friend already, go give them a hug or a fist bump or something.

They deserve it.

Don’t listen to the people around you and their negative views of Greek life. In my eyes, there could be five million bad things people could say, but all it takes is that one event that changes your life forever. If people ever tell you that you “bought your friends,” consider that one brilliant investment that only opened opportunities in your life. When tragedy strikes, I promise, it will be your sorority sisters and your fraternity brothers that will stand by you for life.

Stay close to your friends

And cherish every day

When tragedy strikes

You can only look back and say…

Say…look through the pictures

And the smiles we shared

And look at the accomplishments

And the memories we’ve bared.

Rest easy, Rach, we love you.