Today is two years since my friend Kristin, who at age 35, lost her battle with uterine cancer. I knew this day was coming and have been racking my brain to find the right words to commemorate this day and honor her memory.
I only saw Kristin twice a year - Thanksgiving and Christmas - when my Mom and I would go to her friend Sally's home for dinner. Kristin was Sally's daughter and anticipated seeing them to catch up on the events of the past year. Having a full stomach, and sitting in front of a roaring fire, the conversation would go on and on.
I always admired Kristin. She lived out in L.A. and had a successful career as an advertising exec. She was fiercely independent and grounded. She knew how to work hard and play hard with equal tenacity. Every year she would invite me to Park City to the Sundance Film Festival where she had a place and every year I would promise to make it to Sundance the next time. I never did. Foolishly, I always thought I had more time.
We first heard something was wrong during Thanksgiving 2003. Kristin didn't come home from L.A complaining of back pain. She was trying acupuncture and other healing methods preferred by those wacky Californians prefer. Despite those efforts the pain continued. We spoke to her on the phone, and said she would make it back for Christmas.
A couple of weeks later, she finally went to see a real doctor, and unfortunately there, got the devastating news that her back pain was due to cancer flooding her body. She was flown to D.C and immediately taken to the ICU unit of Washington Medical Center.
Instead of going to Sally's house, Mom and I spent Christmas afternoon at Washington Medical Center with Kristin, Sally and a few family friends. Everyone was in good spirits, and despite the surroundings, a very nice Christmas.
Mom and I made a second appearance a week later on New Year's Day. It was such a lovely afternoon. Although being in tremendous pain, Kristin was in pretty decent spirits. While Mom and Sally went to get coffee, I had a chance to talk to her for a half hour. It wasn't a momentous conversation; the kind you hear at movies. Despite the grim prognosis, I truly believed that she would find a way to fight this, because that was the type of person she was. The idea of death and not having her around never for a moment crossed my mind. We stayed for a little while longer before saying our goodbyes. I kissed her on the forehead, told her I loved her and left.
That was one of her last good days.
Kristin's pain soon became unbearable. She was heavily sedated before slipping into a coma. Her pain finally ended on Tuesday February 17th, 2004. I was walking home from work when Mom called to tell me the news. It was nothing less than heartbreaking.
I came home a few days later for the funeral. The church was packed with Kristin's many friends and family. I felt honored to be considered one of them.
It's nearly impossible to fathom that two years have gone by already. Rarely a day goes by that I don't think of her in some way. I think of all the creativity, joy and fun she still had to give. I think of all the life she should of had. I think of my friend.
Quote of the Day:
"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." -Anais Nin
