TW: Cancer Sucks

 

I don't know why I'm shocked when someone dies of cancer. People die of cancer. Young people die of cancer every day. My one friend died of cancer at forty, we were both forty at the time, and I watched it all unfold from not having cancer one day...well, her not knowing she had cancer, to the email her husband had to send out saying she had cancer, to about three excruciating years later when she died of that cancer. 

Except, yet again, I'm shocked and gutted that three young kids and a husband had to lose a forty-five year old mom and wife to cancer. She had cancer once, in 2015. She thought she beat it. They had an party to celebrate her beating it. We were there. Me, B, and our mutual friend M. I have a photo from that night (above).

We were first in the same orbit just before our babies were born in one of those useless parenting classes you take where they teach you how to swaddle and change a diaper or whatever you learn there. I had undiagnosed ADHD at the time and had real trouble paying attention for the hour and a half or two hours of a class. She, of course, the type A student, was raising her hand, asking questions, keeping us there longer. I was totally like wtf, shut up lady, or we're never getting out of here.

I had E at the end of January. She had A at the beginning of March. We ended up in the same breastfeeding support group. I remembered her from the class. We laughed about it. I kept going to the breastfeeding support group even though I barely had any milk and couldn't breastfeed. It was my only social activity of the week and the only time I washed my hair. 

We formed a playgroup of about eight moms, which was great. I no longer had to pretend to breastfeed in the group to have a social life. We joined Stroller Strides, an exercise group for new moms. We went to Music For Aardvarks and sang endless Taxi. We got our husbands together too, hung out with our babies, and our two little families watched Jersey Shore until late at night in their basement. We had Friendsgiving at their house the day after Thanksgiving, New Years Eve at my house with them and one of the other families, countless birthday parties for all the kids. We went to carnivals and ate street meat. She gave me the leftover tier of A's 1st birthday cake to take home because I love fondant and she wasn't into it. For like three years - these were our ride our die people. We came close to opening a candy store together, which on a side note- it's lucky we didn't since everything that's been in that spot has closed. They agreed in a legal document to take E if we died because we knew they would take him in as their own. If I died, I'd have wanted E to have a mom like Jenn.

She was physically there, with me, at the mall, just after a Stroller Strides class when I got the call that my mom died, two days after what was supposed to be routine surgery. I don't remember a lot about that time- just that day. She was there, and she was there through me being a complete mess.

Not long went by and she had a second baby. We watched A while she was giving birth. The kids were getting older though and they went to preschool, different schools, so no more Stroller Strides. The playgroup broke apart - some in our group, like M, moved far away. Everyone except me and M had more kids, and we all just sort of went in different directions. Different towns, different schools, different friends, different activities. E took ballet, acting and art. A did sports. C, (M's son) moved out of state. 

She had a third baby. By that time, both our lives were chaotic, and we were in the thick of our own stuff. For me, juggling one kid with a relatively new retail business and my mom being gone was a lot. I can't even imagine what having three was like. We were both just busy moms doing our thing.

She was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2015. I'll never forget the day she called and told me she had cancer- she was ready for that fight on day one. She told me that the day she found out, she was ready for and would do anything she was told. She didn't even seem scared, just matter of fact, ready to do whatever she had to do to get rid of the cancer. I can't imagine anyone more determined to get what she wanted. She wanted to live and I didn't have any doubt she would. When she had a goal - it was toast. She fought it and she was told she won. She was in remission. They had a party to celebrate. M and I were there. We hadn't been close or hung out in awhile but we were there to raise a glass and celebrate our friend kicking cancer's ass.

I'd end up running into her husband over the years at swim meets because E and A both were on different swim teams but would intersect at certain regional meets. I looked forward to it. I'd always check Meet Mobile to see if A was in the same meet. We'd catch up like no time had passed - there's nothing like sitting in the schvitz of a hot pool for hours and days in a row, and it was kind of like seeing both of them.

Weirdly, or coincidentally, or I don't know what- E somehow made States (March 2024), despite his Tourette's ramping up, newly dx'd "exercise induced asthma", being on Accutane, and missing a lot of practice due to being in two theater productions. This was most likely going to be E and my last meet. This meet marked the end of the short course season, and E was almost positive he hanging up his goggles after this one. A also made States and I assumed I'd see A's dad there, but for this meet, their whole family came. 

It was the first time I'd seen her in a long time. Years probably. She was always with the other two kids at their activities while Dad was at these away meets. You get into a rhythm with these out of town meets. B could never come either (nor did he want to) and it was fine. The three of us sat for hours and caught up, reminisced, had some big laughs, not missing a beat. If she was sick then, she didn't look it or sound it. Thanks to her suggestion and direction, E and I went on an Amish village tour which was actually pretty fun.

It was bittersweet, as we had a really good time just chatting and catching up. But I knew this was most likely the end of organically running into them for swim. I knew there was low probability of seeing them, as their three are in a ton of activities and E is just as busy with totally different things. Swim had just been a constant or running into each other or the possibility of it from the time the boys were in first grade through that meet where they were both freshman in high school. And really, we just lived separate lives by that point. There was just not going to be any further organic intersecting.

You also always just expect there to be more...time. You'll see each other...eventually. Unless, cancer intervenes. 

I had no idea the cancer was back. I literally just found out a few hours ago (Friday around 11:30p) that she passed away Thursday night (it's now technically Sat at 2a that I'm writing this). I can't sleep so I'm writing. I'm sitting here...thinking about some of our last conversation, and how I had thought some of it was...odd. Odd, for her. A little on the cynical (if that's the right word?) side. More, like, stuff I would think or say than stuff she typically would. Knowing her, knowing she was private, I'm not surprised, if she knew she was sick then, that she didn't say anything. If I had to guess, I'm going with her wanting to keep her kids lives as normal and untouched by her illness as possible. If everyone knew, they'd be intrusive on her family time. Or they'd look at her with sadness. She was a fierce mama bear and there's no way she'd want her kids seeing that. That, and the two of them (and another couple) also comically taught us about the evil eye, a lesson we will never forget. But now, in hindsight, some of that conversation we had at the meet, makes a hell of a lot more sense.

Anyone who knew her knew that her husband and kids were everything. She went all out for every holiday, birthday, and made everything an event. She didn't half-ass anything. Made everything special. She loved matching family outfits and family photos in those matching outfits. She loved matching family costumes and themes. She loved decorating for holidays. I didn't know what a topiary was until she put out ones in the shape of a heart for Valentine's Day. She just was really...present. Went out of her way to make special memories for her family.

I don't even know how to end this entry. It's 3am now and I need to go to sleep. This probably isn't even written well and may not even make sense. It's just what's on my mind in the moment. And I feel like I needed to say SOMETHING. You know that whole Reason/Season/Lifetime thing? For the season of the first few years of E's life, they were the bulk of it. Sending all the positive thoughts and energy out to her husband, kids and family. Cancer f'ing sucks. There's no rhyme or reason as to who gets to live and who doesn't. There is only unfairness. Her husband lost his soulmate and her kids lost their mom who loved him and them #tothemoonandback. All of her friends and family lost out on more time, shared laughs and tears, deep discussions and more with her and it's just wildly and stupidly unfair. 

J- I told A that if he needed any help searching out matching outfits for anything, I'm totally here to help. 💓

Edit: I just saw there is now a GoFundMe so feel free to click the link to donate.