A friend of mine found out on April 11th that the "off" feeling she's had for a few months was actually cancer. By Friday the 13th, she'd lost her voice to the very aggressive throat cancer and the pain from the cervical cancer required her to be heavily medicated.
On the 17th she passed away.
I had the task of notifying the friends of hers who were somewhat difficult to find. We live in an age where people use their cell phone as their home phone, so no calls to directory assistance were successful. I found people by word of mouth, and by luck. Some of them were like me; they've known Regan for almost 20 years but were not in the habit of sitting around and chatting for an hour each week. Out of all her friends, I was one of the few who knew she wasn't feeling right and was trying to figure out what was going on.
She was the type of person who believed in alternative medicine, a wholistic approach, homeopathic remedies, and an all-natural way of life. Don't drink, don't smoke, take care of your body and it'll take care of you. Her husband Steve complimented her quirky ways by being someone who knew a lot of things about a lot of things. Whenever I had a question about something that no one seemed to know the answer to, I knew I could call Regan and Steve.
It was kind of like the relationship I had with my dad, before he passed away. Anything I needed to know, I could ask him and he would likely have the answer. When he died I felt so helpless. Who would I turn to?
Now that Regan's gone I have that same feeling.
She passed away three days before my fundraiser, the American Cancer Society Relay For Life. I was nominated to be Chairman of this event that is a signature fundraiser for a great organization. It's only been happening in Lake Havasu (my home town these days) for three years, and past fundraising totals were a good start. First year it was $16,000, second year it was $35,000. With my help they hoped to make it even higher.
I took on the role of "Carnival Barker" by appearing on the t.v, the radio, in the newspaper, and on the online news publications. I was in everyone's face, prompting them to help us reach our goal of $60,000. I made it my personal mission to turn this event into a huge success.
Then I lost Regan. I lost my steam, right when it was critical to keep going. I wanted to just lay down and cry.
But then her husband called me, and gave me some insight into where his head was at. When I assumed he'd be feeling sorry for himself, he was strong. When I thought a smile was off limits, he made me smile. Regan had been hospitalized in Las Vegas--two hours from home--because that's where the specialists were. Her husband recanted all the events that led him to that conversation with me: all the doctors, the consultations, the medications, and and the heartache of seeing her in pain. He said at one point, "This is the worst trip to Vegas I've ever had."
Tearfully, I smiled.
I then decided, "If he can do it, I can too."
I shook off the sad feelings, the tears, the despair, and I focused on the fundraiser.
I worked until it hurt, I did what needed to be done.
I explained my sadness to my Relay For Life committee, and they very kindly offered their sympathies. In a quiet conversation with Will, head of our Logistics, I told him I'd dedicate myself to the Relay and then give Regan the time she deserved in my heart AFTER the event was over.
I checked weather forcasts, worried that if we had some sort of anomoly we'd have no participants at our outdoor event. And there it was; a forecast for 30 mile per hour winds and rain. People in this town will come out in the wind, but not the rain.
I worried for a while then I realized that Regan's husband had said something pretty important, "For ten years she was my universe, and now she IS the universe."
I silently asked her, "Regan could you do this one favor for me? I know this seems a bit silly to you, considering what has happened to you this past week, but it's very important to me"
And she did. The clouds cleared up on the day we were setting up out at the track, and the wind stayed calm. Everyone was amazed at our "luck."
The event kicked off on Friday night, and I found myself chatting with t.v. cameramen and reporters. I let them all know we had Regan to thank for our great weather. They probably shrugged it off, but all the event participants knew it was quite true.
There were dancers, singers, dedications, ceremonies and all kinds of activities making it look just like I envisioned it would; a carnival.
At one point in the middle of the night, I looked up and saw the half-moon and the stars. The music from our stage was in my ear but I could hear Regan's voice, calling me "Miss Shawna" like she always did. She was there.
She was there the next morning, when the accountant was adding up the $65,000 we raised.
And she was there Saturday night, once I finally got home from cleaning up the stage, the trailers, the tables and chairs, and the 15 garbage cans at our site. I cried until my head hurt and my stomach ached. I didn't cry because it was so unfair that such a neat person was taken away like she was; I cried because I missed her. Just like that, she's gone.
