I bet that when she was born, forty-three years ago, her mother imagined a wonderful life for her daughter. A wonderful, long life, full of happiness and love for her daughter. As all mothers, I'm sure the thought of out-living her daughter simply never crossed her mind.
I bet that with the birth of each of her own four children, she, too, imagined long, full lives bursting with happiness and love and contentment. Four lives that she would have the honor of sharing, of being a part of for a very long, long time.
Early yesterday morning, Sherry lost her battle with breast cancer.
It's not fair. It's not fair that her mother has to experience every mother's worst nightmare... burying your child. It's not fair that her husband had to become a widower at too young an age. It's not fair that she didn't get to see three of her four children enter high school, that she didn't get to see any of them graduate, go to college, get married. Their own children will never get to meet their grandmother. It's just not fair.
And it's not fair that my sister, only in her thirties, now has to face life without her best friend.
I'm angry. But mostly, I'm sad.
I know there isn't much I can do. So I do what I can. I spend the extra few cents on yogurt to get the ones with the pink tops. I buy pink ribbon apparel whenever I can afford it. I joined TeamWhyMommy. I click. And even though I don't have two nickles to rub together most of the time, I donate every. single. time. I'm. asked.
I want this to end. I don't want any more children to lose their Mom way too early. I don't want any more husbands to be left alone. I don't want any more women to lose their best friends.
I want to help find a cure.
So, Jen, if there's anything I can do, or if you just want to vent, yell, scream, talk, cry... I'm here for you. And I'm so, so sorry.
(My sister, Jennifer, and Sherry - October 2006)