It’s all so fleeting, isn’t it?
Today the world said goodbye to a very special person, Suzanne Bartholomew, a woman I knew only perihperally during high school who came back into my life a few years ago. Suzanne was a ray of light, a kind and loving soul, a person whose entire purpose seemed focused on helping others.
When my sister battled breast cancer, Suzanne sat by the side of our family, a support, a smile, a beautiful person who’d battled and won and come out on the other side. And when my sister kicked cancer to the curb, Suzanne and her beautiful daughters celebrated with us.
And so it was with the utmost despair that we whispered the news to one another when her own cancer came back in a more vigorous fashion. Disbelief, sadness, anger rained down on us and, rooted in helplessness on the periphery of her world that was rich with loving friends and family, we wished we could do something – anything – to make her life better the way she had made ours better.
It’s appropriate that today is overcase, cold and bitter. For when a life ends too soon, when a love so deep and true has to face this incredible searing loss, there is nothing to do but burrow into the warmth of those we have by our sides, and pour the love we can express today into their hands.
All I can do is watch the hands on my clock tick toward the time when I can scoop up my three blessed children today, hold them close and whisper into their hair how much I love them, how they give me life, and how lucky I am to have such love.
Suzanne, I didn’t know you as well as so many others, but I knew that you were incredible, special, a shining smile of selfless light whom I was glad to know. I’m sorry your life ended so soon. I can make no sense of it. And I wish I could do something to help the living who must endure your absence.
Go in peace, my friend.