these are the days that wreck us.

I met our Lindsey at the same time I met my husband, over ten years ago during a football weekend in Tuscaloosa and she is just one of THOSE people – funny, kind, adventurous, full of life.

You just love her right away.

As my husband and I were together, Lindsey and I would also become friends and she would be part of our group on our first trip together to New Orleans – and my first Mardi Gras parade – and several other fun memories that year.

A few short years later, she was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer while she was only in her in early thirties. Despite that, she has continued to travel, run (even organizing a team for her local breast cancer awareness run), hike, camp, you name it. . .

No matter how much the beast would spread, she has fought back up – but, after six years, it has progressed to a point of great suffering as she has been telling me and my heart has been breaking.

I have been praying for relief for her constantly.

Honestly, my mind has known and understood that a day would soon be coming when there would be an end to messages and sending snail mail and whatnot. I knew too that she is at peace and I certainly don’t want any more pain for her. I have even written about her illness and the end of her path.

It’s just that my heart hadn’t quite caught up and it just shattered when I actually had to accept that she has entered hospice yesterday and it’s really really here.

I write about loss often. Hell, my last post was about the loss of a young friend. It’s a part of my world unfortunately as a spoonie – but this is straight to my heart in a different way. Oh my word.

I should just go ahead and give the elephant on my chest a name, I suspect, as it refuses to budge.

This has happened as I am just flaring like all hell – or I honestly think I would be standing in my yard, kicking and screaming. As I say all the time, we can honest with God. We should be. He can take it.

And I just don’t understand. I know it’s not for me to. . . but, good Lord, does it sting.

There is nothing I can do for her and no way to make this better.

It just freaking hurts.


As I’ve been writing this, I’ve just received word that she has passed away. 

I hate effing cancer so so much. Goddammit.

I intended to write more – but I’m honestly just at a loss right now.

On Sunday, when I went to virtual church at my dear friend Tim’s church as I do every week, one of the readings was the oh-so-familiar and comforting 23rd Psalm. It’s been in my head ever since and now I know why. A God thing.

I’ll end there.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff,

they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever.

  • Psalm 23 (ESV)

I love you, Lindsey. Always.

Be well, everybody. Take care of yourselves and each other.

Grace and Blessings.

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