Over the past two months, I've meant to write - many, many times.   This isn't really the post I'd prefer to end the hiatus, but I need to ... ruminate on this.  Recently, something upsetting happened, but I am very very very fortunate that I was close enough to the situation to truly learn from it, but enough on the periphery that I was spared the grief that others are feeling right now. 

In April, I met an incredibly inspiring individual - Kristen Burke.  A year ahead of me in school, she was having some difficulties and having to repeat a few of her classes, putting her in a few of mine.  A mutual friend was soliciting a tutor; I initially didn't respond because I had a lot on my plate, and like the selfish person I sometimes am, I figured that someone else would step up to do it.  When no one else did, I offered - I do pay my bills by tutoring, so I figured I'd be able to help out some.

Our friend told me that Kristen had been having some health problems - she had Stage IV brain cancer, to be exact.  The instant I heard that, a stone sank to the pit of my stomach.  No, I didn't know that before, but it shouldn't have mattered.  I didn't offer to help because I thought I had so much other stuff going on in my life, and meanwhile this girl struggling for hers just needed a little help to get her through finals.  Lesson #1 - you always have time.  Always.

We began our email correspondence to set up times to tutor.  Despite having to schedule around doctor's appointments, Kristen was really excited to "get through some of this stuff, and hopefully make a new friend!" No pity parties for this girl, she was going for the silver lining.  Throughout our tutoring sessions, we'd sometimes get a little off course and she'd talk about her disease.  Her courage and determination to live her life the way she wanted was awesome - I felt incredibly inadequate around her.  Her vision was going south and it was sometimes hard for her to remember where the end of her sentence was going, but let me tell you - this girl had one of the best sarcastic senses of humor.  We got through finals, texted a few times over the summer, but I'm ashamed to admit - when school started up, I wasn't even thinking about her.  I was so wrapped up in my own happenings that I didn't even wonder how she was doing.  Lesson #2 - Don't ever become so wrapped up in your own things, no matter how big they seem, that you aren't responsive to the world around you.

A few days into the school year, we had our first Kinetics class, and I turned to see Kristen being wheeled into the classroom.  The last time I had seen her, she was completely ambulatory.  Now she couldn't get herself to class.  She'd put on more weight from the steroids they had her on.  One of her eyes was halfway closed, almost like she'd had a stroke.  Later, when she asked a question, she was barely intelligible - her speech had deteriorated so much that she was difficult to make out and her line of thought was difficult to follow.  But she was in class.  Many people in our class last year never even knew she was there; now, there was no missing her.  People started asking questions, and those of us who knew did our best to respectfully explain the situation.  Many people said, "Screw class! If that were me, I'd be at the beach.  Vacation with family.  Not pharmacy school."  Kristen graduated from college with that thing in her head, and she was determined to finish pharmacy school just the same.  One time last year I asked her about it, and she answered, "Ok, I have cancer.  But I'm a student.  What would *you* do tomorrow if you weren't in school? And if I get better and I've taken years off school, those are just gone.  If I don't get better, oh well."  I thought about going up and asking her how she was doing those few days I saw her in class, but I was afraid she wouldn't remember me.  Or that I would embarrass her if I couldn't understand her.  I was a coward, and that's the embarrassment.  Lesson #3 (which I've learned before, but unfortunately seems as though it takes some repetition to be able to apply) - Say something.  You don't know if you'll get another chance.

Kristen stopped coming to class a few weeks back.  I heard she was in the hospital, but she'd been living with cancer for 5 years, she'd been in the hospital before.  I guess I was waiting for  her to bounce back.  They always say, "You'll beat this!" and since she had been beating it for so long, and since she was so determined to do so, I really thought she'd bounce back. 

She died on Friday.  

When I heard that, I just felt this hollow spot in the pit of my stomach.  I don't mean this to sound callous:  My biggest feeling wasn't one of sadness - we weren't all that close and this was one of those situations where she got rest from fighting, respite from her discomfort, and ultimate reward of being welcomed into the paradise of Heaven.  My biggest feeling was loss.  This woman was amazing - inspirational, determined, a model of how we should all handle not only day-to-day life, but the grace with which we should handle our biggest challenges.  The world lost that on Friday, but I hope I never lose the awe that she imparted in me.  She viewed the opportunities she had as privileges, while many of us view it as a chore.  I need to remember to never stop being amazed at all of the incredible things that I get to do every single day.  Lesson #4: Don't dismiss any of God's blessings.  Realize that every day you have is a gift.

Kristen, rest in peace.  You've earned the peace and comfort of the Lord's arms.  Thank you for all that you've taught me, for the lessons you demonstrated for us all.  My most ardent hope is to live each day going forward in a manner that does honor to your memory.  You will be deeply, sincerely missed.