Rest in peace my dear, sweet friend.

I lost a friend.  A dear friend unlike anyone I've ever known.  I was blessed to cross paths with her and am eternally grateful for her friendship and love over the past 6 years.

My sweet Lisette fought a brief, yet courageous battle with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.  I'm still in shock.  She was diagnosed just shy of 3 weeks ago.

When I heard the diagnosis, I was heartbroken and hoped beyond hope there was some big mistake.  How could someone so young and vibrant who had made all of the right decisions in life be struck down by something so cruel?  There is no explanation.  There is no way to justify it.  She simply got dealt the shittiest hand at the shittiest of times.

I met Lisette in prenatal yoga when I was pregnant with our oldest.  There is a group of us who formed an unbelievable bond which began at the yoga studio, trickled into after class burritos and now far into motherhood.  We all had our baby boys within a few weeks of each other.  We spent those dark, foggy days together.  We lifted each other up, cried together, supported each other and laughed together. Sometimes with each other; other times at each other!   Each of us has our unique set of strengths and weaknesses as mothers and women, but Lisette seemed to have more of the former, less if any of the latter.  She could be up all night but would show up with a bright smile, shiny brown hair all lovely and free flowing, her sense of humor and a zest for what lies ahead.... while the rest of us cowered ponytailed in the corner in fear of the first tooth, the next sleepless night, an unanticipated nap schedule change or any other minor detail that otherwise can send a new mother to the loony bin!

We spent many days together strolling with our boys and lazing over long lunches in one of the most picturesque towns in the bay ... Tiburon ... how amazingly uncomplicated all of our lives were.  Then came job changes, moves far and near, and siblings.  Where up to a dozen of us once spent hours together each week at playgroups with all of our babies, we now spend them as a trio or foursome sharing stories over dinner and wine.  Evenings that came to an end all too soon. Each and every time.  While our lives have gotten more complicated, our friendship has not.  It's the most amazing group of wise, trong, supportive and open women.  There's nothing but love.  We love each other as women and support each other as mothers.  We talk openly of struggles and triumphs and marvel at the strength of unconditional love.

Lisette's illness taught me a lesson in unconditional love. And perhaps most importantly, another in humility.  I am a woman of many opinions. Some would argue far too many.  Lisette was lead to her diagnosis after a series of seemingly unrelated, harmless illnesses which culminated in hemorrhaging that forced her to the ER.  While there they discovered an issue not just with her blood count being low from the hemorrhaging, but also some out of whack white cell counts and hemoglobin issues.  They suspected leukemia and did a smear test under a microscope to confirm.  She was too weak for a bone marrow test to confirm, but the doctors were certain it was leukemia.  In order to treat it, she would need to have a blood transfusion to boost her counts and provide her strength.  Lisette was a devout Jehova's Witness.  While most medical treatments are acceptable in their church, they will not accept blood in any form. No whole blood and nothing that is a blood product.  I could not wrap my head around the fact that she would choose her faith over a fighting chance at life.  No blood = no conventional medical treatment.  Acute leukemia is aggressive and even with equally as aggressive treatment, the survival rates aren't great.  I thought she should fight for the chance to have more time with her kids.  We are mothers, after all and our greatest responsibility is to our children.  I couldn't get it and thought I just have to talk some sense in to her. It was insanity.  I wasn't able to see her that first day. Instead, we visited the following day. By then I had a chance to calm down and think about what I needed to do for her as my friend.  What she needed most was support and love, not me and my burdensome opinions.  I was incredibly nervous to visit her, mostly because I didn't know how I could squash the fear and tears and put on a good game face for her.  However, in typical Lisette fashion, she smiled and welcomed us in, told us how she felt stronger every day and that she would get through this.  She gave me the encouragement that I should have been providing to her.  She had an unbelievably positive outlook that thankfully was infectious.   I got to hug her tightly, tell her I love her and hold her hand. I hope I don't soon forget what those things felt like or sounded like.

With Lisette after crowning her Mrs. Popular!

We didn't want to bombard her with visitors because she was so weak and she needed all the strength she could muster for this battle.  My dear friend from our little trio and I tag teamed and each visited about every other day, keeping each other updated and encouraged in between by voice and text.  Before my second visit I wrote Lisette a letter because there was so much to say and I didn't know if I would get to say it all in our brief visits.  I wanted her to know I would be there with her every step of the way as she fought this nasty disease.  Most importantly I told her I would respect her beliefs and support her choices.  I was inspired by her strength, comforted by her courage and confident in her faith.  We were able to talk about this briefly during my next visit with her and she thanked me for being such a good friend and for loving her no matter what.  She gave me some other compliments that were totally undeserved but that's Lisette.  Full of positivity!  Even if falsely so.  She also shared with me a deep regret and I'm sure in the face of fear we may all question things that otherwise should never and will never be questioned by others.  I was so torn up by this because the last thing you want to see in a friend is regret or the feeling that they somehow brought this cruelty upon themselves.  Like I said, it simply was the shittiest hand one could be dealt.

My last visit with Lisette was a few days later. It was very different.  I took her some dry shampoo and some lip treatment for her severely chapped lips.  Seems so trivial but I was grasping at straws in finding any teensy little thing to help.  I only saw her for a few minutes but as I left the hospital, I knew that may have been the last time I would see her.  I've never seen fear.  But I saw fear that day.  I'll never forget it and my only hope is that it dissipated over the coming days or was lost in a murky mess of consciousness.  My last words to her were I love you.  Her last words to me were I love you too.

Lisette left the hospital a couple of days later.  I know that being home and able to feel the love of her little boys provided the comfort she so needed.  She began alternative treatment.  I am sorry it didn't restore her health but I am happy it bought her some time at home with her husband and little guys.  I don't question any of this, as in retrospect, none of it probably mattered with the fast moving beast that is acute leukemia.

I took my little guy to an event at his preschool yesterday. As we were leaving, I checked my phone to see what the plan was to meet up with Parker and our big kid afterwards for the next stop on our busy weekend agenda, which was a picnic with the other preschool families.  I saw that my dear friend had called and after listening to her brief, non-descript message I knew why she was calling. She didn't have to even say it. I knew before the words were spoken.  Our dear, sweet Lisette had died during the night.  I'm still in shock. I am thankful that her suffering was limited but my heart aches for her husband and two little boys.  As much as I knew in my heart this day would come, I still illogically wished for a miraculous outcome.  I'm wrestling with it as I write.  I was able to get through a multitude of tasks and events yesterday all the while harboring a tragic secret.  My dear friend died.  I miss her. I am so sorry she had to go through this. I am so sorry that her children never again get to hug her or look out in the crowd to see her clapping and smiling proudly.

Lisette was an amazing woman.  I am forever grateful to have had her as a friend.  Lisette has bestowed many gifts upon me, but her final gift was teaching me how to truly be a loving and loyal friend.

I love you and miss you, my friend.