a friend remembered, a legacy (and a video to watch)

I love this photo. Four friends who have just changed out of heavy boots and into flip flops at the end of a long day of hiking. We would sleep fitfully in our bunk beds that night in Greenleaf Hut, high in the White Mountains, under scratchy woolen blankets. We would smush soft pink plugs into our ears to drown out the roof-rattling snores from the mens’ dorm. And in the morning we would laugh our way down the mountain in the rain.

We would not talk about cancer or clinical trials or miracles. We would not mention what we all knew to be true: that this would be the last time we’d ever climb a mountain together. For twenty-four hours, we simply savored the moments at hand: the glorious views from the top, the soggy sandwiches in our backpacks, the slick trail under foot, silly jokes, wet socks, togetherness.

Just over a year later, in October 2010, my dear friend Diane died of ovarian cancer. (That’s her in the black fleece, looking radiant despite the fact she’d spent the early morning in the hospital getting an experimental treatment.)

As I type these words, I carry another close friend in my heart as she nears the end of her own journey with cancer. And I am reminded, with equal parts of gratitude and sadness, of the lessons Diane taught me during her illness.

Loss attunes us to what is meaningful. And although a cure may not be possible, healing always is. Diane never once asked, “Why me?” Instead, she said, “Why not me? It could have been any one of us who got sick.”

And with that, Diane made two decisions: to respond to her disease with aggressive treatment and to fully embrace the simple pleasures of her everyday life. Under the cutting-edge care of the Dana Farber Cancer Institute, she was able to do both for nearly four years.

Diane couldn’t change the outcome of her disease. But her commitment to hope and healing never wavered. From the time she was first diagnosed until the final weeks of her life, she worked tirelessly to support ovarian cancer research.

Each year, over 25,000 women are diagnosed with ovarian cancer. It was Diane’s wish that earlier detection and more effective treatments would improve the odds for every other woman who might follow in her footsteps.

Her courage and commitment are my inspiration.

Later this fall, I will be having two consecutive hip replacements. My own walks these days are short. My steps are small. My pace is slow. But I’m determined to keep moving. And on September 27, I will once again lace up my sneakers and join Team Diane for the Boston Marathon Jimmy Fund Walk. Although I can’t commit to the full 26. 2 miles this year, I’ll do what I can. I’m more aware than ever that this cause is so much bigger than any one of us.

Walking together over the last four years, our small group has raised over $150,000 – money that goes directly to Diane’s oncologist, Dr. Ursula Matulonis, and her cutting-edge research team at Dana Farber.

Over the summer, I worked with a dear young friend (and iMovie whiz) on a video to tell the story of our group – of a death that arrived too soon and of the extraordinary goodness that can arise from grief.

I hope you’ll take a few minutes to watch. (For full screen on YouTube: click here.) 

Meet my friend and catch a glimpse of her indomitable spirit. See the powerful legacy she left behind. Share the link with your friends. And join with Team Diane to carry this urgently needed work forward.

In the words of Alice Walker, “Activism is the rent I pay for living on the planet.” As many of you know,  this cause is close to my heart. And once a year I am honored to share it with you here. I’m humbled, always, by your generosity. Thank you for donating — in any amount — to this effort that means so much to me and to so many others. I am deeply grateful for your support.

To learn more and to donate to my walk, click here.

Blessings and thanks, from my full heart to yours,

Katrina

p.s. Want to send a check?  Easy: make it out to Jimmy Fund Marathon Walk. In the memo line, write “Diane’s Fund.”  Mail it to me:  Katrina Kenison, 101 Middle Hancock Rd, Peterborough, NH 03458.  T

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(and a video to watch) appeared first on Katrina Kenison.