This weekend I woke to the sound of a moving truck. Looking out my window, I saw the truck sitting in my driveway. My heart fell a little bit.
Not long after I finished my last round of radiation, I bumped into my neighbor Jayne. She told me of her diagnosis of breast cancer. I remember one day looking out the window and she stood on a rock in her front yard with a big yellow floppy hat covering her newly bald head. Her hands on her hips and then she lifted them to the sun. I am not sure what she was doing, but it seemed as though she was soaking up the sun. Soon hats and scarfs were not the only thing new. A cute yellow VW Beetle appeared in the place of the old blue Explorer.On another day, J and I found her backyard filled with friends planting her a garden. Another sweet pleasure to bear a terrible disease. A couple of weeks ago, she and her boyfriend John peered over the fence to ooo and aah over the puppies. She looked happy.
J had ran into John several days before the moving van arrived and was told the cancer had spread to her liver. She was in the hospital. When I saw the moving van, I knew something was not right. After getting myself together for the morning, I walked over to the fence. A few people were standing around smoking cigarettes and a couple had red eyes. I asked if everything was okay. A short awkward pause that seemed to last minutes. Jayne passed away.
After talking a few minutes, I walked away with tears in my eyes. Another warrior who saw defeat.
While Jayne and I were not close. Perhaps we both were a bit nosey. We did have a connection. I grieve over a woman whose joy was apparent even when...