Here is a taste of the person she was (or rather, is, since I believe death is not the end) and what she meant to me:
Sweet Michelle,
I first met you sometime in 1998 when we were both working at Dell. I remember admiring your self-assurance and no-fail attitude from afar, but we didn’t have much of a connection at first. It may surprise you that I was even a little intimidated by you. I was not the most confident person at work back then. As time went on, we’d see each other here and there due to mutual friends, but it was not until years later that we would discover we really liked each other.
Jump ahead to 2005, when I heard from our friend Alison that you were diagnosed with breast cancer. Having lost my mother to this horrid disease in 1986, I was all too familiar with what lay ahead of you, and though we were not yet friends, you had my full support from the get-go. I was so upset to know that you had to bear this burden at such a young age and with such a young son. It wasn’t fair! Being a veteran runner in the Race for the Cure, I immediately joined your team, Michelle’s Angels, which your sister so lovingly organized in your honor. It was at that point that our friendship began to take hold, one of countless good things that came out of something so wretched.
Through the last 5½ years I have gotten to know the bold, charming, funny, beautiful, faithful, fabulous person that you are. I saw you each November at the Race for the Cure; had some long, heartfelt phone conversations with you; and had the privilege of celebrating your 38th birthday with you in July—one that you weren’t sure you would see. During these years, you have become more than just a friend. You are someone I love dearly, a sister in the cancer-fighting community, and a huge reason why I started riding in the LiveStrong Challenge each October. I remember more than once at the end of an event, we’d give each other a big, long hug, and you’d whisper in my ear, “I know she’s so proud of you!” In the throes of your cancer battle, you cast your own worries aside and comforted me by remembering that I was also there for my mom. She is the reason that I started running in the Race for the Cure, but the past few years have been focused on you. Being part of the team that consistently raises the most money at the Race for the Cure in Austin…..well….it’s impossible not to be excited about that! But the stronger pull was just being around you. You spread joy wherever you go. Since your cancer-fighting journey started, I cannot remember a time when I was with you that you didn’t have a big smile on your face and gratitude in your heart.
Since your diagnosis, you coined two phrases that are quite telling: “Don’t waste my cancer,” and “Eat life with a big spoon!” You have managed to do both of these things exceedingly well. With all that you’ve accomplished—the publicity, community involvement, fund raising, and simply loving your friends, family and fellow females—you have taken something so “dark, devastating, scary and ugly” and squeezed an immeasurable amount of good from it. Take that, Cancer!
Sadly, even though you reached your 5-year milestone as a survivor last year, we knew that cancer would take you from us too soon. Though you beat the odds several times, God called you home early this morning. Heaven’s garden just became a more beautiful place with its newest blossom now fully open….
Michelle, you have touched my life in ways that I cannot explain, for which I will be eternally grateful. I am relieved that you are no longer suffering, but, selfishly, I want you back. We all do. I want to learn more of your life lessons! Rest peacefully, and know that we’ll take care of each other and keep your spirit alive by continuing your mission.
Since death does not equate stopping, I won’t say good-bye. Instead, I’ll say…..
Seeya later, alligator!
I love you!
Kim
P.S. Tell my mom I said hi and I miss her, and give her a big hug for me………
