A Sad, Happy Birthday to My Friend

Today, September 17, is my friend Kay’s 56th birthday. More accurately, I guess I should say that it would  have been her birthday.  The last time I saw Kay was over the Labor Day weekend, a few weeks before her 46th birthday. That was when she decided to defy what her doctors were telling her, and prove them wrong.

Ten years earlier, Kay had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Several years and multiple surgeries, celebrations, and disappointments later, her doctors spoke those fated words that no one in the middle of a battle wants to hear. He told her they had done everything and there was nothing more they could do. That was the summer of 2008; a particularly hard year for Kay. It was probably the second worst year of my life, and watching Kay slip away made it all the more difficult.

I remember the phone call, when Kay updated me on her latest series of tests. She told me that the doctor basically told her she should start saying her goodbyes; and that he didn’t expect for her to make it to her birthday.

I quickly sprang into action. A phone call didn’t seem the most appropriate way to say goodbye to a friend. So I made plans to drive back to SC to spend the Labor Day weekend with her. A really great part of the weekend was that our mutual friend from Australia was able to return to SC as well.

I also contacted all of the people who we worked with in our department, and planned an early birthday party for her. Fortunately, everyone who we wanted to be there was available.

Kay was such a trooper. Coming to terms with the fact that she would no longer be here; that she was leaving this earth at such a young age, was a lot for me to take in. Kay seemed to be more accepting of her future than most of us. I guess, in reality, she had 10 years to prepare.

But can one really be prepared to say a permanent goodbye to everything and everyone they love. Family. Friends. Co-workers. Neighbors. The girl at the grocery store. The man who delivers your mail. The kids who keep leaving their ball in your front lawn.

I could only imagine how emotional this time period must have been for Kay. But she never let on. Not while we were around.

We had a great time together. Birthday cake, ice cream, balloons. We talked about almost everything including some of our co-workers (former co-workers for me) who weren’t there, some of the good, the bad, and ugly memories we had at work. The highs and the lows. We laughed. And we tried not to cry (because Kay would not have been happy). More than anything, we just spent time together.

We enjoyed that precious commodity of time.

In a final act of defiance, Kay made it to her real birthday, and then cruised right on past it for several more weeks; well into the month of October.

While I didn’t get to see her again, we talked by phone several times, including just days before that final phone call; this time from a mutual friend, who delivered the news that she was gone.

Ten years later, 2018. You are still missed Kay.