Loss of Power

At school we send home folders with students every Thursday. They contain forms, permission slips, flyers, and student work. This is an important but time consuming task and we are fortunate to have parents volunteer to help. For over two years, I have witnessed two moms in particular sitting outside our classrooms organizing Thursday folders for our classrooms. As it happens, these two moms developed a friendship over time, sharing the intimate details of their lives with one another, only on Thursday mornings. 

When I got my diagnosis and had to almost immediately leave, many colleagues came to check on me throughout the day. One of the Thursday folder moms had a child in my class, so she knew what was happening because I shared my news with the families. The other Thursday folder mom just happened to overhear the news because she was stuffing Thursday folders. The last Thursday before I left, I walked out to the hallway to grab something from the printer and she stopped me. 

“Hey, I heard what’s going on with you and I’m so sorry. Just so you know, I had breast cancer a few years ago and I recently discovered that it’s back. If you ever want to get together and talk and cry, I’m available.” 

“I’m so sorry. I’d love that.” 

Katie.

Within days Katie was on the couch with me at home sharing the details of her journey with cancer. We also talked about family, friends, and Campbell. We continued to exchange texts. Katie dropped off homemade potpourri on my porch over Winter break. She texted me about being on the OBX with her family. I continued to go through chemo and last week I felt an urge to text her. 

“Katie! How are you? Sorry I haven’t been in touch while on this roller coaster. I’ve missed seeing you!”

I knew that Katie was not married to her phone and if she wasn’t feeling well she was good at setting boundaries about responding. 

But days went by. I had coffee with Shannon and I even mentioned to her that I hadn’t heard from Katie.

Yesterday I got a text from Shannon that Katie had passed away. The same day that I posted Round 5, Day 1.

I called Tom and he cried with me and said he was so sorry. I sat on the couch where Katie and I first gathered and cried some more. I fell asleep and woke up and got ready for my family to be home. 

I am not yet ready to write about how I feel. I just want to hold this space for Katie, this beautiful spirit that will walk right up to you and tell you that she has had cancer, not once, but twice. Who will offer to cry and laugh and sit with you. Who will tell you what it’s like to be a mom and have to explain this to your children and your family. Who will tell you that she could feel the cancer had spread to her shoulder long before the doctors had confirmed it. Who stopped to make homemade potpourri and leave it on my porch so that in the days that followed my kitchen was filled with the scent of orange and cinnamon and cloves and star anise. 

Who in our lives is someone we see regularly, with whom we exchange a friendly and casual hello and leave it at that? What if that person is our next friend, mentor, confidante? What if the moment that either of you scratches just a bit below the surface, you change forever? Then what if they are gone?