Two sentences. Eight words. In the grand scheme of things,
in an age when words get tossed about like scraps of litter, those few words don’t seem like
a big deal, scarcely worth noticing. However, I don’t think a single day has
gone by since I received the text message containing those two simple sentences when
I haven’t thought about the two sentences. They say so little, yet convey so much about the person who sent them. The sender was my good friend, Leontien. The text was beamed to my phone two days after she learned the melanoma cancer she’d been fighting for
years had moved into her brain.
I still find it impossible to think of my good friend Leontien
without also thinking about laughter and a real zest for life. The sheer joy
she always seems to get form life has always been a trait I admire. When I’m being completely
honest, I’ll even admit to some envious twinges. I wish I could see the world through her eyes, to experience the same joy she always seems to find, and had her ability to look challenges in the eye. Even when she was exasperated or
annoyed, Leontien’s anger seems to have a humorous quality.
I can’t think of a single memory I have of Leontien, whether
it’s doing a rain dance because she was tired of haying, watching her laugh and hug her horse and dog, working with her family to create a dairy farm, or
sitting the passenger seat while we drove from one fast food restaurant to
another when she’s not overflowing with life. Even her writing, the stories she posts to
her blog, radiate delight. I have a difficult time reconciling my memories and
impressions of Leo someone struggling with cancer. People so full of life and
joy should not be connected with anything dark and nasty like cancer.
As much as I admire the joyous way Leontien attacks life,
I can’t think of a word strong enough, deep enough, to describe how I feel about her
ability to handle cancer, family, and life. I always knew she was both strong
and caring, but I had no idea exactly how much. I, along with two other good
friends, visited Leontien last spring, and her generosity and cheerfulness blew
my mind. I was, am, humbled. I can’t believe how lucky I am to be able to call
someone as special, brave, and lovely as Leontien friend. I hope tomorrow and
all the days after overflow with good things for Leontien, I can’t think of
anyone more deserving.
“Don’t worry or be
sad. Everything will be alright.”
This should have been posted a week ago as part of the Leaves for Leontien blog hop, hosted by A Rural Journey. I had a hard time trying to figure out what to say, hence the delay.
I love this Jess, you have a special talent for writing - pair that with our Leo and I am just a huge bundle of emotions. But being otherwise would not be me would it? I just want to say I love you girls and I am so glad we made the trip this spring. That time will never be forgotten.
ReplyDeleteThanks Jenn. There are some phases of life that will live on forever. Love all of you!
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ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful, Jess. What a lovely post! Jen is blessed, as well, to have such a friend as you. :-) Life really throws a lot of questions at us. I always think of Rilke when confronted with such. I'm going to quote him here:
ReplyDelete"I would like to beg you . . . to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything.
Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."
Rilke
You obviously know what you’re writing about. Good job.
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Lovely Teresa, and thanks. I've never heard of that particular quote before.
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