DIANE'S BULLDOG SPIRIT

Gail, Diane and I spending some quality time together (left to right).

 Last summer I was afraid to cross the Sea to Sky suspension bridge (see my blog post from October 20, 2014).

Not like Diane. My darling cousin faced down her fears and did everything possible to cross her cancer "bridge."  She absorbed terrible treatments that came with punishing physical costs in an attempt to earn more time.  Emotionally she endured a horrifying roller coaster ride.  Diane wanted that part to stop, but she never wanted to arrive at the end of the line.

I have known many of us who have faced similar trials.  But this is my cousin and it hurts more than I could have ever have imagined.  This is one life lesson, and terribly sad growth event, I could bloody well have done without.  I've reluctantly joined a new club.  It's the one where close loved ones can offer support and try to make life easier, but are ultimately and frustratingly impotent in the face of a terminal disease that has barged obnoxiously into a life, far too soon.

 Thirteen years ago Diane was diagnosed with breast cancer, took treatment and survived.  She raised her championship English Bulldogs, showed them internationally and built a fine life full of friends.  Nine months ago a persistent cough foreshadowed an intractable lung cancer.  It took her life.  Ironically we were hoping for a breast cancer metastasis thinking that there would be more treatment options for her.

Remembering Diane's courage and grit takes my breath away.  No — rather it makes me aware of how precious each breath is.

RIP dear cousin.