remembering the good and the bad

In 2010, a good friend of mine

was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.

She was 50.

She was a good mother.

She was a professional photographer,

a nature lover,

a woman filled with wisdom

and hilarious as hell.

The illustration below

is from one of her self portraits.

When my own mother was diagnosed
with the same cancer in 2011,
Liz would send me words of wisdom
to share with mom
about what she could expect from chemotherapy.
It feels like being hit
by a fucking freight train!
she would say.
And then she would add:
but tell your mom things get better!
For a week after chemo,
she's gonna feel pretty useless...
drained of all energy -
but then after that, 
every day is gonna feel
like a gift from the gods!

Liz died on March 16, 2011
Mom died on Nov 17, 2012

This little piece of writing
was inspired by Liz.

I had a friend who had beautiful feet.
She didn’t think they were beautiful
because her mother told her they were ugly.
Told her she was ugly and stupid
and that she would never amount to anything.
She believed her mom for too long
and set her expectations lower and lower
until they were not far off the ground.
My friend died and left two boys.
She told her boys every day
that they could do anything in life
and that they had
the most beautiful feet
in the world.