A Legacy of Love
The Dianna Rasha story
By Sarah Kittle
Shortly after Dianna Rasha’s death from cancer in November of 2021, a woman stopped her sister Dalia Kejbou in the middle of Birmingham, crying.
“No one calls and asks about me anymore,” she told her. “Dianna would just call and say, ‘Are you OK? What are you up to? What’s going on?’ Nobody does that anymore.”
That moment captured something her family had always known about Dianna, but perhaps never fully understood the magnitude of until she was gone: She was the person people called; the person who remembered birthdays, checked in, ran errands, brought gifts, offered advice, and showed up; she was the friend who knew what someone needed before they asked. And she rarely talked about herself.
Dianna was 26 when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She would live with the disease for nearly a decade, undergoing chemotherapy, surgery, radiation, and other treatments while continuing to live the life she wanted.
“She lived life,” Dalia said. “It shouldn’t be about the disease. It should be about living.” That philosophy now sits at the heart of the foundation created in Dianna’s memory.
Not Just Another Girl
Dianna was the fourth daughter in a family that had been hoping for a boy. Dalia remembers the morning Dianna was born. Her father returned from the hospital and announced, almost apologetically, that it was “another girl.”
But that girl would become anything but ordinary. “She was not just another girl,” Dalia said. “She was an extraordinary girl.”
Dianna was the family’s “human calendar,” remembering everyone’s birthdays and important dates. She was the person who ran errands, solved problems, and took care of everyone else. She began working at 16, eventually starting her own successful business in Birmingham. Her store, Lexi Drew, became a gathering place—what Dalia describes as a “landing spot” where people came not only to shop, but to talk.
Dianna later joined The Forbes Company and helped create its personal stylist program at Somerset Collection. The year before her death, she was traveling internationally to help launch the program at other Forbes locations. But her professional accomplishments tell only part of the story.
The people who knew Dianna remember the little things: A mom who brought her young daughter with autism to Dianna’s store for special occasions recalls how Dianna remembered her daughter’s birthday, had a gift waiting, and helped dress her for important events; A family member who struggled with learning disabilities had her school locker decorated by Dianna every year; Friends received beautifully wrapped gifts accompanied by thoughtful handwritten notes.
And when people were struggling, Dianna showed up. Sometimes, she showed up without anyone knowing she was struggling herself.
A Private Battle
When Dianna discovered a small swelling in her breast in her twenties, what initially appeared to be a cyst led to an ultrasound and then a biopsy. She began treatment immediately, yet Dianna never wanted cancer to become her identity.
She continued going to work, sometimes receiving chemotherapy and returning to work the next day. She researched ways to manage the side effects of treatment, including a practise called cold-cap therapy after learning about it in Germany.
When doctors told her the cold caps likely would not work with her medication, she tried them anyway. “Dianna said, ‘I’m trying it anyways and I’m going to pray,’” Dalia said.
Her faith was central to how she approached her illness. Prayer groups formed around her during her treatment. On some Tuesdays, as many as 200 women gathered at St. Hugo of the Hills to pray the rosary for her. Some had never been to church before. Others did not know how to pray the rosary.
“They’ll tell you, ‘Dianna taught me to pray the rosary. Dianna taught me to go to church,’” Dalia said.
Dianna was particularly devoted to St. Thérèse. She never missed the novena and always received the rose associated with the devotion. After Dianna died, one friend sent Dalia nine gold St. Thérèse necklaces—one for each day of the novena—explaining that Dianna had taught her to pray and had quietly accompanied her to every chemotherapy session without telling anyone.
It was only after Dianna’s death that her family began to discover just how many people she had helped. At her celebration of life, person after person stood up to share stories the family had never heard.
A longtime neighbor called Dianna his “best friend in the universe” and spoke about her faith and her ability to forgive. “He said she loved Jesus to the point where she made him consider converting,” Dalia recalled.
For the family, the stories were overwhelming, if welcome. “There must have been more of her,” a guest said at the celebration. “It’s not possible for one person to do all this.”
That sentiment became the beginning of Dianna’s next chapter.
Continuing the Good Deeds
Dalia and her family knew immediately that Dianna’s kindness had to continue. “She would be upset to know that we didn’t continue the good deeds and the kind acts that she was doing,” Dalia said.
So the family began building a foundation around the things Dianna had done naturally throughout her life: helping, encouraging, remembering, and giving. The organization, the Dianna Rasha Foundation, focuses particularly on young women going through cancer treatment, with a mission of helping them maintain their dignity and sense of self.
The foundation provides care packages to women in active treatment. Each package contains practical necessities, but it is also personalized to the woman receiving it.
The goal is not simply to provide supplies. It is to provide comfort. It is to provide joy. And, perhaps most importantly, it is to remind a woman that she is still herself.
“For a woman, it’s everything,” Dalia said. “You cannot fight your battle if you can’t stand tall. You cannot fight your battle if you don’t recognize the person in the mirror you’re fighting for.”
Dianna understood that struggle intimately. When she was first told that chemotherapy could cause her to lose her hair, she struggled to understand how treatment could make someone who felt healthy suddenly look and feel different.
“I don’t want to look in the mirror and not know who I’m looking at,” she told her family.
For Dalia, that sentence never left her. She emphasizes that concerns about hair, eyebrows and appearance are not simply vanity. “It’s not vanity. It’s identity,” she said. “No one wants to lose their identity.” That understanding informs the foundation’s work.
The family has helped women with cold-cap costs and eyebrow treatments to prevent hair loss. One 27-year-old woman received assistance with eyebrow tattooing after losing her eyebrows during treatment. At an event at church, she stood before the community and told the family they had given her her identity back.
For Dalia, that was exactly the point.
The Little Things
The foundation also recognizes that cancer affects an entire family. When a young mother recently underwent surgery, the organization sent home-cooked meals for three days—not only for her, but for her husband, four children, and caregivers.
“It’s those things,” Dalia said. “It’s bringing joy in whatever way we can.”
The foundation has also continued to support families after a loved one dies. The first foundation patient recently passed away, leaving behind a son. The family continues to send him Christmas, Easter, and birthday gifts because, Dalia said, Dianna would have done the same.
The packages are intentionally personal. One woman had twin daughters who loved small religious figurines. Her care package included books and little Jesus figures for the girls, tucked among their mother’s supplies.
The packages also include handwritten notes. Dianna was famous for those notes—for making people feel remembered.
“We count every dollar,” Dalia said. “We don’t really have staff. So all of our money is going into these care packages.” The work is largely a family affair. Dalia handles the legal work and much of the day-to-day operation. Her sister Nancy works directly with the women. Raquel helps with events, while Dalia’s daughter, Lex, and niece, Elena, volunteer and help assemble packages. Friends, cousins, and other community members join in when needed.
It takes a village, which Dalia finds fitting. Dianna was a part of everyone’s village.
The foundation’s work extends beyond physical needs. One young woman who had heard about the prayer gatherings held for Dianna asked the family if they could hold a prayer night for her.
The answer was immediate. About 100 women gathered at the St. George Grotto. They prayed the rosary and other prayers for the young woman. “We made her feel like she had support,” Dalia said. “Not everyone has family. Not everyone has friends.”
For Dalia, those moments are also a way of remaining connected to her sister. “Very much so,” she said when asked whether the foundation helps her feel close to Dianna. “I hope she’s proud of us.”
Blooming Where Planted
The foundation’s work is also beginning to take physical form. A butterfly garden is planned in Birmingham, a place Dalia describes as a garden of peace where people can go to find a moment of quiet. Dianna’s Butterfly Garden is being developed in the city that was such an important part of Dianna’s life—the place where she owned her store, worked, and spent so much of her time.
The family also hopes to collaborate with the Chaldean Community Foundation on a garden at its West Bloomfield campus, creating another place where people can pause, reflect, and remember.
For Dalia, the gardens represent something larger than a memorial. They are places of peace—and places where Dianna’s spirit of kindness can continue to touch people.
Five years after Dianna’s death, her family still misses her every day. They still hear stories they never knew. They still meet people who tell them how Dianna changed their lives. And they still wonder how one person managed to do so much. Working with the foundation gives the family something to do with the sorrow of loss.
“I’ve heard that grief is love with nowhere to go,” Dalia said. Dianna’s family has found somewhere to put that love. It goes into the care packages carefully assembled for women who are frightened and overwhelmed. It goes into handwritten notes. It goes into meals delivered to families who are too exhausted to cook. It goes into rosaries prayed for women who need to know they are not alone. It goes into Christmas and birthday gifts for a child whose mother is no longer there to buy them.
And soon, it will grow into a garden.
Dalia believes Dianna continues to make her presence known in unexpected moments. She believes in heaven and the afterlife, and that the soul does not die.
“She was a gift,” Dalia said. “God gave us a gift. And we’re blessed.”
The gift of Dianna is now being passed forward; that is the most fitting way to remember a woman who spent her life making sure everyone else felt remembered.
For more information, visit diannarasha.org.