"We're at that age......."

 ......where shit happens. He's not wrong,  However, when the hits come in the traditional "threes" it can be a bit much.  Funny about the threes. It seems to be a real thing. It was Bonnie who suggested I get it out on paper. it does help.

A few weeks ago, I was sitting next to my neighbor-friend's Mom drinking and busting chops.  At 72, she is gone.  My first friend, also a neighbor, who I literally have known since birth, gone at 62. And while he and I had not been connected in decades, his sister is one of my besties  Her loss is my loss.  As an empath, I feel that shit. Deep.

And now Cindy. Cindy and I met while I was running in Milwaukee what seems like 100 years ago.  We struck up an immediate and deep friendship.  I tried to encourage, motivate and keep her moving, but she struggled. I saw her last summer when I was home for USAT Nationals. Was it last year?  

It started with cervical cancer, which is not necessarily a death sentence. She fought for years, quite literally. On and off, in and out of treatment.  And she always rallied.

She posted in July that she was home in hospice. Hospice. And it went right over my head, because she is Cindy and she always came back from it. I did reach out, at least, let her know I was with her in spirit and that I love her.  I thought about making the trip, but I had living to do and honestly, she would have been pissed if I stopped that to hold her hand. She would have told me to get my ass back out there.  Still.......

So, the other day a "You might know........" popped up on FB.  Cindy's original FB profile (She was using a nom de plume) and I thought, shit I need to check on her.

She died August 2. 

I was racing and training and she quietly slipped away and I didn't even know it. And I couldn't even take the time to process and grieve. But, let me tell you, the body and heart know and it messed me up.

So, at this moment I am letting the grief and guilt and regret and love all wash over me like those waves in Ireland. I will let myself be tossed about, then I will hear her tell me I have exactly 5 mins for this pity party.

And I will swim to shore. 

I love you my friend.  You fought the good fight and I will continue to do what for so long you could not and for so long you cheered me on. You are always with me. 

Fucking cancer. Fucking grief. 



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