Has it been a year?

I have been asked to write a post in remembrance of our dear friend Margaret, who passed away a year ago today. I am reluctant to do this. Because remembering is difficult and painful. But failing to remember is unforgivable. And some memories are inescapable. So I agreed.

A couple weeks ago I went out to eat dinner at a Mexican restaurant. The food arrived and I started to take a bite. And was suddenly, unexpectedly, swamped with memories of Margaret. When she and I first arranged to meet each other, more than two years ago, we decided to have lunch at a Mexican restaurant. At the time, Margaret’s appetite was “off” due to the chemo treatments. Nothing tasted right and she didn’t have much desire to eat, but she thought spicy Mexican food sounded good. So I was delighted that day when, after a couple hours of talking, she looked at her almost empty plate and could not believe she had eaten so much food. It was a small thing, but it felt like a triumph. She had been so busy talking and laughing she’d forgotten that food had lost its appeal. Sitting in the restaurant two weeks ago, I couldn’t help but remember. I had to set down my forkful of food and swallow a lump of memory, and tears, instead.

I missed her so much that day. So I went back and read several entries in Margaret’s blog, something I haven’t been able to do until recently, read again about her courageous fight with the cancer she ultimately couldn’t beat. And I was struck anew by two things. First, that she was so strong and determined and positive, so certain that the cancer was just an evil blip in her life, one that could be vanquished by a combination of good drugs and sheer will. And second, I was reminded of her dry self-deprecating humour that prevailed even when she was in the grips of pain and fear and uncertainty. Good lord, she was funny — and never more so than when she was facing a reality that was unspeakably grim.

She wrote this October 24, in what would be her last post, barely a week before she died:

This chemo gives me a red face, a strange rash, a bloated, pregnant-looking belly (oh, relax!), fabulous fingernails, and fatigue. Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays I literally sleep 13-15 hours a day (12 hours at night frequently), and I rest on the couch for the rest of the time. I’m also gaining weight. I told my doctor that I don’t eat enough to be gaining weight at this rate, and when he just looked at me, I allowed that all 40+ women say that, but when I recapped just what I do eat, he had to agree with me. He reminded me that fluid (in my lung, around my heart, in my feet), has weight and volume and perhaps that may be what’s showing up on the scale. Of course, he’s not concerned–he’s not the one who has to go shopping.

Margaret had a rare ability to discern what was important without giving it undue weightiness, and to look lightly at the rest. She demonstrated how to face the prospect of death with dignity, recognizing its inevitability without acknowledging its imminence, yet at the same time, she lived life with gratitude and optimism. And with humour. So today, as difficult as it may be, please do take a moment to remember Margaret. In whatever manner you deem appropriate. She is a person, and hers is a life, worthy of remembrance.

There is an observance in the Jewish faith called Yahrzeit that calls for saying a prayer on the anniversary of a person’s death and lighting a candle, letting it burn for 24 hours. I’ll leave the saying of prayers for each of you to decide on your own. Prayers are meant to be personal and private. But I think we can light a virtual candle here in honour of Margaret’s memory and carry its light and warmth within us for one day. At least for one day.

59 comments October 31st, 2008