Peaceful and Pain Free

Last December, my friend Amy called to let me know that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer.  I'm the sort of optimistic fool who hears such news and immediately assumes that this is just a bump in the road.  Surely, science can cure breast cancer.  A few hours later, having checked the statistics, I tumbled into bed confident that our beloved Miss Amy would have a few bumpy months ahead.  But, I assured myself, she will be okay.

From that moment, the descent into a hole of anxiety and fear began.   Amy's original tumor had spread into her lymph nodes and surrounding tissue.  It was in her liver and lungs.  Likely her bones and now in her brain.  It was Stage 4. I went from wishing for some kind surprising good news to simply praying for news that wasn't terrifying.  

In February, still under-going treatment and hopeful of some years yet to live, she texted me that she was grateful for a few days in which she felt peaceful and pain free.  Never once, as she made the transition from a seeming health scare into the horrible conclusion that this would not end well, did Amy give up hope in the power of living and loving the life she had.   But that life ended on Friday.   It still seems unbelievable to write such a sentence.

On countless occasions big and small, Amy was this family's red-headed fairy godmother, with laughter, confidence in happy endings, and an adventurous spirit to match.   That's the Miss Amy that we will remember, fiercely miss, and always love with all of our hearts.

Amy & JT at Harry Potter World, Florida, March 2012