I hate when I wait too long to update here. Then a million things happen and sometimes every single one of them feels to me like it deserves its own blog post.
I want to touch on all of the wonderful events of our past week or so, but tonight my heart is too heavy. Yesterday Matt told me that a friend of ours passed away. Sara had colon cancer and was so young, WAY too young. I didn't know her very well at all, we were "Facebook friends"-- I remember her comments on some of the things I have posted about Eloise and how much she loved her.
So, I have spent these past few hours just thinking "what the hell?!?!". When I found out about her cancer, from my husband, it was one of those things that just seemed a little abstract. She started a blog (you can check it out here) and it was hilarious in the way that if you weren't laughing, you'd be bawling as you read it. Her most recent post, just one month ago exactly from today, talked about the fact that her doctor did not think she would go in to remission. Even reading it, it sort of sounded like she may still have years left to live. Not weeks, days, or hours.
Admittedly, Sara was not my close friend. My heart isn't breaking in the same awful way that her friends and family's hearts are. Instead, my thoughts return again and again to why this happens. Why someone with so much heart gets dealt such a shitty deal. And how can a person, any person, come to terms with the end of their life when they have lived no where near enough of it. She had her original diagnosis about a year ago. And now, now . . . after everything she has endured to help fight the cancer, after hearing her time would definitely be up, one month later and it was.
I struggle to wrap my brain around it. My true desire, for Sara, is that somewhere inside, at the end of her life, she was okay. That she was able to move on without fear.
Honestly, I can't even let myself think she could have felt any other way. I can't even go there.
Last night I went to the movies with a friend, we had planned to see The Help. It was an amazing movie. I laughed and cried, multiple times, throughout the film. It was incredibly therapeutic. On the way home from the movies there was a strong police presence on the main bridge that connects our part of the city to the rest of Seattle. Apparently someone had been on the bridge threatening to jump for hours . . . and then they did some time in the early morning.
As you can tell, dying has been on the forefront of my mind and heart most of the weekend. I have no idea what to make of all of it, but maybe something will come to me.
Or maybe not. I guess that's how it goes.