I was going to write a post today about how Owen’s new favorite game is to play hide and seek. And blah blah blah it’s so cute.
But you know what?
Bigger things are happening. Lives are beginning and ending this very second. And while I know that happens every day, while I blog away about mundane things like what Owen ate for breakfast and getting a balloon at music class and how my belly is expanding faster than I thought possible, today feels different.
Late last night, my sweet friend Bridget passed away. She and I attended a small all-girls’ school together for many years. I had my first taste of beer at a party in her basement… long before she was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer during her senior year at Boston University. We wore long, white gowns and carried red roses together the day we graduated from high school… long before she began to think about her life in terms of months instead of years. After college graduation we both ended up in Boston and we chatted about turning her blog into a book, how she could use her heart-wrenching fight with cancer to inspire others and how my husband could shoot a documentary of her when she was healthy enough to have a baby with her amazing husband… long before she knew that she would not make it to her 30th birthday.
Bridget was a warrior. She fought cancer from the day she was diagnosed, and she fought hard. It bothers me to hear people say that she “lost” the battle against this disease, because that’s not how I would put it at all. She fought, and she won, for 9 whole years. Long past the timeline her doctors gave her. During that time she inspired thousands upon thousands of people through speaking engagements and tireless efforts to support the Susan G. Komen foundation and walks around the country. And then, when she was tired of fighting, she made the decision to stop. She traveled and savored the rest of her time with her husband and family. She didn’t lose. She won.
So although we all have “stuff” going on today, and every day, I hope you can take a moment to stop time, and think about the big things that are happening. See the forest through the trees.
In Bridget’s last blog post that she wrote in December, she asked that we not forget her. I know that I, for one, never could. I hope you can’t either.