About a Girl.

When N and I moved in to our house years ago, our new neighbours (Kirsten, Nathan and their beagle Holly!) left us a bottle of wine and a card welcoming us to the street.  It made us feel instantly at home and when we went round to thank you, we could tell this was a couple we were going to get along with.  We met them for drinks a few times and got to know them via a few parties and pub trips in the local area, sharing stories, interests and most importantly laughs.

Kirsten was diagnosed with an aggressive breast cancer a few years ago.  Her intensive chemotherapy treatments never dulled her zest for life and I really admired her courage through a hardship that I'd been spared seeing my own Mother go through when she underwent a successful attempt at removing her own breast cancer.  I attended Kirsten's 35th birthday party two years ago, despite no longer living in the area.  It was a celebration of her getting through another bout of chemo and she was happy, beautiful and her usual wise, energetic and happy self. 

On Wednesday night, I got a phonecall from N who informed me that Kirsten had passed away last Friday.  It was a shock. Although I hadn't seen her for a while, I'd read her posts on facebook of her undergoing more chemo in a last ditch attempt to rid her body of the returned cancer.  It dawned on me that although her prognosis had never been good due to its aggressive nature and the fact it had returned, her strength had amazed me so much that it never occurred, naively, that she would lose this fight so suddenly.  She died in her home, peacefully, with NT by her side.

I've been very lucky in my life, not to have had to deal with much death.  I still have all four grandparents, and although various elderly relatives have passed away they've been distanced enough for me to not feel a vast amount of grief. 

Last night I sat reading the memorial web page Kirsten's friends and family have made for her.  It was so upsetting to read all the memories, each one filled with heartache from people who were missing Kirsten in one way or another, suddenly finding a Kirsten shaped gap in their lives.
It's all so surreal and desperately sad.  Her facebook page is still there;  Her car is on her driveway, where she stood laughing, telling us about the latest little bump she'd managed to get in her company car.  Yet, she's not here anymore.  This lovely, caring, incredibly strong and genuine human being no longer laughs, smiles, breathes.  So young, yet bringing such happiness to the lives of the people she encountered.  It's hard to get my head around.  My grief is miniscule compared to her closer friends and of course her family, and I dread to think how consuming grief will be for me when it is a member of my own family whose death I have to accept, but still- I've cried and I feel better for it. 

I will be attending her funeral on Monday.  I'll admit, this will be my first funeral for someone I considered a friend, despite us not being close, and also for someone so young.  Every other funeral I've been to has been for an elderly person, where there is something inevitable and quietly natural about it.  This time, the unfairness of it will make it all the more sad.  She fought this absolutely awful disease so hard, at such a young age and yet it claimed her.  The only relief is that she won't have to endure that any longer. 

I'm not at all looking forward to Monday, however, I feel I owe it to her memory to be there.  I wasn't as there for her as I could have been.  It's a chance to say goodbye to her. 

I do remember her saying to me, giving me some direct, honest advice before I left N- "life is short, far too short to waste being unhappy".  All the more poignant now she's gone.