Susan

 

This was the last time I saw Susan.

We were at Blogalicious and I saw Susan when she was sitting at the American Cancer Society booth. I was so, so happy to see her and gave her a big -- but very gentle -- hug. She was getting ready to make a small speech to introduce the More Birthdays campaign and cupcakes. And she was nervous, which really surprised me. Susan, the strongest woman I know, nervous about speaking about the very thing she has spoken and written about so many times? I remember being surprised.

She told me she wanted some friends to come sit with her for her speech and the cupcakes. I was sitting in the very back with a table of DC Moms and when I saw her come into the large room, guided up to the very front, I got up immediately and joined her. For a little while it was just the two of us at a big table in the very front of the room. She had these very small pieces of lined, torn out notebook paper and was furiously scribbling and crossing out. Scribbling and crossing out.

And then she said to me, Do you think it will be okay if I include some facts?

Yes.

Do you think they can handle it if I tell them I'm going to die?

If you are strong enough to say it, they had better be strong enough to hear it.

I'm supposed to keep it light.

Susan, say what you need to say. This is a room full of strong women and they can handle it.

 

I'll never forget the low, huge, stunning moon I encountered as I stepped off the Metro the evening Susan died. I had gotten the e-mail as I was standing on the Metro platform to go home. I cried, sobbed the whole ride. (That's one way to assure yourself an entire seat to yourself during rush hour!) And when I came out, there was the moon. It took my breath away. I know that moon meant a lot of things to a lot of different people. To me, it was God's way of welcoming Susan home. Of letting all of us know that she was safe, at peace and cared for.

And tonight is another full moon. Three full moons since the day she died. I don't know if I'll always be able to recall the exact number of full moons there have been, but I do know that with every full moon to come, for the rest of my life, I will look up and think of Susan.

Susan gave us all so many gifts. And she gave us so many comforts. The moon and the stars have extra meaning for me now. And they provide me extra comfort.

I have been unable to write about Susan this whole time. Unable to write about anything, really.

But I cried and laughed and smiled when my son opened his first-ever brand new minifig (we were lucky enough to get tons of Lego hand-me-downs from my cousins and brother) recently. He was hoping hoping hoping it would NOT be a girl.

Not only was it a girl, it was Susan.

And I knew I had to write.
 

Dearest Susan, I love you and miss you. I am so, so grateful to have known you and continue to be so grateful for all that I learned and continue to learn from you. I am comforted to know that you are at peace and that you are still loving and caring for your sweet boys and all whom you loved.

 

Original post by Smiling Mama. Thanks for reading!