Farewell, My Friend

Two months ago, I lost a dear companion on this cancer journey. I haven’t found the words to write about it . . . which has made it easier to not find the time to write about it. I still can’t believe she’s gone. I don’t want to write this post. But I’m going to try.

Suzanne and I grew up together in Meadville, PA. Well, sort of. She was ten years younger than me. But her grandma was my piano teacher, and my mom was her music teacher, so our paths crossed a lot.

After we both left Meadville, we continued to stay in touch sporadically ~ a phone call here, an e-mail there. But neither one of us could have anticipated the thing that would cause our lives to intersect forever.

                
In April 2012, my husband Greg and I were in Orlando where Suzanne happened to be living. Our main purpose for being there was to attend a church-planting conference; but we had brought our four children along and knew that we couldn’t leave Orlando without a trip to Disney. Suzanne, who loved Disney more than any other place on earth, offered to meet us there ~ at whichever park we chose. And so we spent a wonderful day at the Magic Kingdom, laughing and making classic memories.

                
Fast forward 8 months. I was facing some follow up on an abnormal mammogram, and I happened to notice a FaceBook post by Suzanne that indicated she was dealing with some medical issues, too. The next time we chatted by phone, we discovered that we were both scheduled for tests on the same day. And a few weeks later we were diagnosed with cancer just one day apart.

                
It didn’t matter that hers was a sarcoma on her knee and mine was breast cancer. They were both invasive and a bit rare ~ although hers was more rare than mine. Suddenly we were bonded as sisters for life.

                
From then on, our lives followed each other in an uncanny pattern, often with appointments on the same day. When one of us had a procedure or treatment before the other one, we talked each other through what to expect. It was like having the best kind of support group, even though we were over 1000 miles apart. I can’t count the times we talked by phone, or Skyped, or texted.

                
And then, we supported each other through the dreaded recurrence. Her cancer came back in February of 2016, and I was diagnosed with a second breast cancer just months later in May. Suzanne understood so well what I was going through, and was, I think, my biggest cheerleader that I would beat this thing ~ even though she didn’t have that same hope for herself.

                
Almost every time I talked with Suzanne, she sounded so strong, just like her pre-cancer self. Rare was the conversation where she sounded depressed. It seemed she was always positive, always encouraging me.

                
So I was startled by a text from her late one night last September, saying that she had been admitted to hospice.  What???? It couldn’t be time for that yet. But a call to her mom and more texts from Suzanne confirmed that her time on this earth probably wasn’t long.

                
Ever since our simultaneous diagnoses in 2013, we had talked about another Disney trip, reliving our 2012 meeting there and celebrating that we had beat cancer. One thing and another had kept me from going, but I knew now was the time. The pathos of that trip is too deep for me to recount here. Because it wasn’t a celebration. It was good-bye. And I did spend a wonderful day at Epcot with Suzanne’s mom, with the anticipation that she would join us there for dinner that evening. But a brief text let us know that she just wasn’t up to coming. She would have to “live” that day with us through our stories.

                
I flew back home on October 1. We celebrated each other’s October birthdays with packages mailed back and forth. Then, on October 27, I received this cryptic text: “Hey Anne I’m in the hospital….” It was the last text I would have from her. But we would have one more phone conversation. On Monday, November 5, Suzanne called to tell me, “It won’t be long now.” We cried together, and wished each other well. Less than a week later, on November 11, she slipped into eternity, holding her mom’s hand. Yesterday marked the two-month date, but I still struggle to believe that she’s gone.

                
I wish I had a nice wrap-up to this eulogy. I wish I could write more! But it would take a book to recount all that Suzanne meant to me and the lessons we learned from each other. Maybe some of those things will come out in other posts. But for now, though I grieve her death and the fact that she had to go before me, I am eternally grateful that she walked beside me while she did. And I live with the hope of seeing her again in Heaven.