A friend passed away from cancer this week. I still remember the day she told us she had cancer almost two years ago. She kept everyone abreast of her situation via Facebook, and while we knew the cancer had spread, and was not responding to treatment as hoped, I really didn’t believe she was going to die. Maybe it was denial on my part.
She was just over at our house six weeks ago, and even though she went home early because she wasn’t feeling well, she looked quite good to me. Her hair had long since grown back, and even though she was clearly uncomfortable and not eating much, she didn’t strike me as someone who had so little time left. Needless to say, I was absolutely shocked when I saw people posting on her Facebook wall Wednesday evening saying she had passed away earlier that day. From what I gather they saw it coming because her best friend and family were with her when she passed in her home. So I suppose there’s some comfort in that.
While we weren’t super close, and her negative comments about my pet rats annoyed me, I still considered her a friend and a good person. She didn’t deserve to die at the age of 46, and I’m angry at the unfairness of it. Even more so, I’m sad for her family, and her husband in particular, who have to keep living without her. I cannot even imagine that grief. Death is worst for those who are left behind.