One of my friends from childhood was diagnosed with lung cancer last year. We were all hopeful that new medications and chemotherapy could keep her disease at bay for a long time. But it has recently gotten much worse and she seems to be slipping away.
This was the person we visited last winter when I turned out to be getting so sick. It is somewhat miraculous that she didn’t catch the awful germs I was spreading. At that point, she looked like nothing was wrong. She was as beautiful as ever, even as she turned 61 on the Ides of March.
We were delighted to hear that she and her partner of probably 15 or 20 years decided to get married a week ago. It was sweet to know that they officially declared their love for each other. It has always been obvious how much they adore each other.
What do you get for someone who can’t really go out much any more and who isn’t finding food very appetizing? One of our gang proposed flowers. And then the question was what type?
That was easy for me. Daisies, of course. When we were in high school, we formed a club for those who hadn’t succumbed to the desires of the flesh. Our symbol was a white daisy, of which each of us wore a little felt flower inside our graduation robe. A bit hokey, but something we could always look back on and laugh about.
So I think our friend will soon be getting a big arrangement of daisies. Hopefully they will lend some cheer to what must be some very dark days.
This could easily be any one of us. After all, life is like a lottery and sometimes our number is up. We will cherish our visit earlier this year and send our heartfelt wishes for ease and gentleness. It’s hard to know what more one can do.