Someone I knew died of cancer today. I had not seen her in a year, and I had not heard she had cancer. She had told a few people, said it wasn't that bad, but it's the kind of cancer people don't recover from. End stage metastasis.
What do I remember? Honestly? She talked too much. And she was smart, vivacious, enthusiastic. Bright eyes and a contagious smile. She achieved a lot. She was my age, far too young to die. I met her mother once, and her mother was so proud of her and couldn't help but brag about her daughter's achievements. I would have, too. The last time we talked? I remember discussing Brokeback Mountain with her. She seized life in a ways I never would have dared to.
I didn't know her well, but I knew her well enough to feel really sad about it. She was too young to die. Today, she should be pursuing her dreams, changing the world with her strong sense of feminism. She should be talking too much, engaging with life, there for her child.
I want to rail or rage against the lack of progress we've made against cancer; it's so aggressive in young people. Why not more progress, why not sooner? I hope she had enough support and friends around her in the last few months, and I hope those I know who loved her are doing okay. She didn't deserve this, and the world shouldn't be deprived of her gifts.