Update on a Friend-So Sad

Last spring I shared, with a shield in one hand and my fist in the other, about my friend A's diagnosis with a brain tumor. In my post Are Wheel's Turning Now,  I shared the heroic efforts of A in her work on civil rights and advocacy, vowing that she is strong and a fighter and would win this most important battle in her life. Yesterday she shared that despite what we had hoped were two successful surgeries and rounds of chemo, the tumor has come back and with a hold that modern medicine is no match for. Treatment will be stopped, and she and her husband M began the steps to try and prepare their children, 17, 15, and 13, for the inevitable. She expects not more than three months.

We carried babies at the same time, her oldest, my youngest. We worked call centers and  fundraisers together trying to keep a fledgling non-profit not just viable, but relevant. We walked the halls of both the Minnesota and national capitol and senate and house office buildings together. We shared cup after cup of  awful coffee, waiting to get a few minutes of some powerhouse politicians time so they would know how crucial a healthy child care system is to struggling families. She moved on to move even bigger mountains, new colleagues by her side, with even greater passion. 

I am a mix of sad and angry. Losing a woman like my friend M last May, so unexpected, was so wretchedly unfair. This seems even crueler, with hope given and now crushed. I won't try and make sense of this-there is no sense, just bad, awful luck. I can say I'll try and live for both of them, but the truth is, I don't hold an ounce of either of their bravery, their zest for living. I feel unworthy to try and carry any torch. Right now, I am numb trying to absorb this, yet I still need to work, raise my daughter, lend any support possible. I'll just try to "be."