Our Fran died last week.
We had weeks – months, really – to prepare ourselves for my sister’s passing. I myself had been steeling for this moment for two years, since her diagnosis of stage IV cancer, knowing full well where we were going, just not sure when we would get there or how hard it would be along the way. Grabbing at the occasional story of miraculous survival encountered through the internet, even meeting one or two of those courageous and lucky folks still alive and kicking years after a similar diagnosis, hoping against hope that Fran would join their ranks, always pulling back when I remembered the look on her surgeon’s face when he told us his uncertainty about whether or not they had in fact “got it all”, knowing now that his prediction of where she would recur, if she recurred, was spot on.
But nothing prepares you for a death from cancer. Nothing.
Chemo was hell. The anxiety was worse. The pain unimaginable.
This disease eats away at bodies, and nerves, and hope, and joy. It tears strong families down like muscle being pulled from bone, shredding our loved ones away in small painful pieces, day after day until in the end they are gone and there is just the pain. Pain that somehow manages to co-exist with a blue cloudless sky, the smell of lilacs and cacophony of bird song on a May morning.
Thankfully, and almost surprisingly soon, now that she is gone, the good memories of Fran are starting to return, seeping in ever so slowly through a small hole in the wall of pain. The lounge act she performed for us in our living rooms, singing “It’s almost like being in Love” with an abandon and finger-snapping rhythm no tacky lounge singer in a smoke filled velvet walled room could ever match. Fran doing Cher better than Cher. Or performing the Spanish duck act that made us laugh till we cried.
On the flip side we’ll remember the “I’m an angry woman” persona that fueled her patient advocacy and sometimes (well, a lot of times…) drove us a little crazy. Her straight on approach to life that pulled no punches, always spoke to authority and saw through the grey straight to the black and white of any situation.
We’ll remember her generosity of time, money and energy, giving to anyone and everyone she knew or did not know with no questions asked. Having a baby? She crocheted you a blanket. Like those earrings she was wearing? She made you a pair. Have a cause? She’d donate. Again and again. Even as she was dying, Fran was making one last gift for each of her sibs, decorating the 8 clay pots in which she had sub-divided the Jerry Jade (Jerry Garcia’s jade plant – that’s another story..), wanting to leave us all a final gift.
She never finished the pots.
But we will, all of her girls gathering together in her craft room one last time, fueled by wine and memories and laughter. Laughter for our Fran, who made us laugh as no one ever will again.
God, I miss her.
Hi,
I’m a medical student and long time reader of your blog. My mum died of cancer about 5 years ago and you are spot on when you say nothing prepares you for a death from cancer. It’s something that’s easy to forget when you see cancer patients and their family, particularly when you are operating in the medical mode: even if you have the deepest of professional empathy, you forget at that moment the endlessness of it; how all-encompassing it is; the constant fear; the knowledge that each piece of good news is only prolonging the inevitable.
I’m so very, very sorry to hear about your friend, and wish you all the best during this time.
Kind regards.
Angela –
Your description nails the details perfectly. Especially the constant fear.
I’m so sorry to hear you and your family had the same experiences we did.
Thank you for your kind words.
Peggy
My apologies for my error above – I believe that Fran was a family member as well as a friend.
I think that’s what we mean when we talk about spirit: Franny’s lives on in all the stories and memories we continue to keep alive. Through the painful memories and stories of the battle she waged against cancer for two years–one I can’t even imagine the true difficulty of–we go back to the stories of her before the cancer. A presence that changed every dynamic she walked into, almost immediately. Her booming laugh, her silly voices and impressions, the immensity of her heart, the prolific nature of her crafting, her innovative parenting style, her intense dedication to her family– especially her sisters–her tireless advocacy for what she believed in and her legendary generosity.
As black and white as she saw things, she was complicated. That complexity leaves those who loved her still slightly off kilter as we talk and think about her and try to remember her with an honesty that she would have demanded.
You were an incredibly dedicated sister, Peg. She loved you and respected you immensely, and I hope you don’t need anyone to tell you that. The support you all gave her and each other through all of this is like nothing I’ve ever witnessed and I am forever changed by that witnessing. I feel incredibly honored to have married into this family and I am so proud to call you my sister.
Oh Rachel, we are so blessed to have you in our ranks.
All my love,
Peggy
I’m so sorry to hear about your sister’s death. I’m glad you’re starting to remember the good memories of your time with her and hope that will help you through the hard times. My best wishes to all your family. And I agree, nothing can prepare you for this.
Thank you, Kalyn.
Words fail me. So very sorry for your loss.
Thanks RL.
Peggy,
I found out from Michael Ogborn of Fran’s passing last week. I’m so very sorry for your loss. We had lost touch for several years but she had let me know of her diagnosis last year. I am deeply, deeply saddened to know that time and distance didn’t allow for me to see her before she died. I loved her dearly and can smile at all the fun we shared since High School. I hope that yesterday, Mother’s Day, Henry and Sam were able to remember the more joyful times with Fran.
Clare! I found this wonderful pic of the two of you from some party in the past, and it brought back so many memories. I do hope you’ll join us on Saturday, and come back to the house afterwards so we can party like Fran would want us too…
Peggy, I am so sorry to hear this. I didn’t know. My thoughts are with you and your family now.
Elaine –
You know much of what we’ve been through, I am only so happy that you have made it.
Peggy
Not a lot – but , condolences .
Jim every note of condolence means so much to us all. thank you.
I am crazy heart-broken for you and for your family. Having only Met Franny once (at OBS Housekeeper’s husband’s b-day party), you are right that she will never be a forgotten soul. She was ever-present in the crowd, and a palpable personality not to be missed. The “laugh-really-loud-until-people-turn-to-notice-you” laugh, was so funny and spot on, that I will remember this about her for my whole life.
I am particularly heart-broken for you sisters of Fran. I have been observing for nearly 11 years now the impact of the loss of a sister with my wife. She is one of 3 girls and her middle sister lost her life to cancer as well. (While we didn’t have to the time to know we were going to lose her, I am not sure that the advanced warning actually preps you for anything at all.) The interwoven relationships that sisters have is immensely complex, and each sister plays an important part of the glue to keep it all together. While my wife has certainly gotten past the immediate pain and grief, she still catches herself running to the phone to call her sister when something happens that she wants to share. Her relationship with her oldest sister is also very different now. They are closer in ways that wouldn’t have been necessary before to accommodate for the gap. So the morphing to the relationship is great, but in the end they would rather it not have needed to change.
I hope (and know) that you will fall back on each other to find your way.
That, and someone has be take on responsibility for the lounge act. That needs to survive. Too damn funny to just let go…
Schrugglin’
Funny the night she died I found myself slipping into the lounge act, and getting the snap just right, but it’ll never be the same without her. Somewhere I have a video of it, am scouring my laptop to find it….
Hope to talk to your wife at some point about how she and her family dealt with the loss. I cannot imagine how we are doing this…
Love ya’
Peggy
My wife is ready to chat when you are. You will meet her this weekend – probably Friday evening.
After, you know how to reach me, and she will be there for the throw down – one year late, and still not scheduled…
I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss…it sounds like it was just huge. My deepest condolences to all of your family.
Thank you, Celeste.
Very saddened to read this.
I know….
So sorry for your loss. My sister passed away from breast cancer in 1995. Your words convey what it was like to have a sibling who had cancer. I remember the good times BC ( before cancer) and the 5 years she fought the disease. She has been my role model as an ovarian cancer survivor.
Deepest Sympathy to you and your family.
Dee
Dee –
You have been through so much – both you and your sister. Thank you for sharing it.
I wish you all the best,
Peggy
I’m so very sorry for your loss, Peggy. My thoughts are with you and your family.
Thanks, Bardiac.
As Mom would say “Love you, love you, love you…”
As Fran would say, “What a day this has been…”
I have no more words.
XO, Rosie
Poot….
((((( peggy )))) so sorry about the loss of your sister. i don’t know what one can do to prepare. am pretty sure she felt the love, even though the freaking cancer did not give a hoot about the opinions about it.
i’ve lost my “second mother,” my nephew, my dad, and friends to the freaking cancer; my sister is in remission, but her kind is bad and may well come back. there isn’t a magic wand, and so all we can do is try to make life good while it lasts. it sounds like your sister brought joy to many, and got it back in return. xoxo
kathy a.
So many you have lost! I think my brothers and sisters and I thought somehow we were immune. It’s the loss of our invulnerability almost as much as the loss of my sister that has shaken us all. Time to learn what others have already – that life is sweet and short and to be savored.
Thank you for your kind words.
Peggy
So sorry for your loss, Peggy. Hoping that time brings back more joyful memories than sad ones.
Thanks Whoo….
Peggy
Peggy,
I am so sorry for your loss. There is no love like sister love.
It does seem remarkable on those days of pain that the sky can be blue and the birds can sing. Hope it will not be long till you can leave your grief for a while.
Smak
Dr Smak –
You know loss too well. Thank you for your kinds words. And it is another gorgeous May day.
Peggy
Dear Peggy,
I knew the end was near, but I was shocked to learn today of Fran’s passing. (I just sent her something from our trip to the Keys – in today’s mail.)
We shared something, and I am privileged to have known her. You, too, came into my life, and I’ve corresponded with Ronnie as well. Please accept my deepest condolences. We had plans to party; I’m sorry that we never acted on them.
Much love to you and your family, as well as to the men in Fran’s life. I’ll send them a note.
Cancer is an evil beast. I’m so sorry it took her.
Love, Alice
Alice-
Knowing you was one of Fran’s and my great privileges. You’ve done so much and given hope to so many. I only wish that hope equaled cure…..
Thank you again for all you did for her and shared with her and us. My best to you and your husband.
Love,
Peggy
I don’t have your beautiful words, only a head full of memories. I remember the 3 months between my mother’s diagnosis and her passing, and the pain suffered by my uncle, aunts, cousins, brother and friends as they survived their own chemo and radiation and surgeries. I remember each stick from my appointments at the Oncologist’s office and all of those visits from my year of chemo, radiation and all those surgeries to make me “normal.” I still miss my family and friends and I still cry like a baby each time I hear someone has lost the battle to cancer. I don’t think we forget cancer, just learn how to survive.
Thank you for sharing your story, and hope. My deepest condolences go out to you and your family.
Dear Peggy, Although I didn’t see that much of Frannie, I always enjoyed your stories about the fun times you always had in your family. I especially remember when Marvin was sick and she was able to get the information we needed and how she jumped in with such enthusiasm and eagerness to help. More than that I have been amazed at your attention and devotion to her in the last two years. Between your mother’s final illness and Frannie’s you have been a giant among women. I can’t think of enough words to describe my admiration for your total dedication to your family. And through it all you always seemed to find time to help me through a few difficulties and our family events. Sometimes I wished I was your sister instead of your mother-in-law. No one could ask for a better daughter-in-law.
You know our thoughts are with Adam and Sam and Henry at this time and we offer our sincere condolences to all the family.
Love, Irene
Irene –
Visiting you and Marvin during this time, and staying there even during my mom’s funeral, gave me a wonderful respite. I’ll never forget that wonderful “Irene’s Spa” weekend, where we just came down with nothing to do and you cooked for us and I just relaxed. I am forever grateful to you both.
Love you.
Peggy
Peggy, this is just so sad. It sounds like Fran had enough going on to live another lifetime. Yet the one she had was way too short. Losing a brother or sister is a lot harder than we realize. Please take care of yourself. Thanks for telling your faithful readers about your sister.
Rural – Thanks for the advice to take care of myself. My sisters and I have all gained more than a few pounds during these past months, and our big challenge it to recover both physically and emotionally.
Best,
Peggy
I’m so very sorry to hear you’ve lost your sister. My hope for you and your family is that you’re able to hold onto one another until the grief fades to a bearable level.
Dear Peggy,
I’m so sorry. Hard as it is to lose anyone, to lose someone of one’s own generation is so particularly hard–the thought of growing old without such a beloved companion through life—and with a sibling it’s so much of your life. That parting gift in progress-Jerry Garcia’s [really??] jade plant, speaks so strongly. Something green and alive, and a whole broken into parts. As a nurse and an advocate, Fran must have thought the world of you–as do all who are lucky to be in your orbit.
Fondly,
Nancy
It is so painful now. You will remember things she said or how she was and it will make you incredibly sad. After a long while it will make you melancholy. When time moves on you will miss her and speak to her. Memories are indelible—how wonderful. You will heal and the essence of Fran will become gemstones in the fabric of your life.
I am a far away but long time reader of your blog, I was very moved by the wonderful tribute you pay to your sister.
I have three sisters, all of them alive and well, and I know how deeply rooted these relationships are. I take your post as an invitation to enjoy every moment we spend together, we never know when the monster will strike.
The portrait you draw of Fran is just wonderful.
In relation to cancer, I’ll add that I lost my father to it five years ago. I can relate to a lot of what you wrote.
Thank you for these memories Peggy. Your writing a great service to those of us who find ourselves swimming in the dynamic sea of life – like a lighthouse, displacing the soupy fog with a clear, unmistakable point of reference. Love you, pjg
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I just stumbled upon your blog, doing what you were doing in trying to decide a paint color… I’m thinking of Shooting Star, and somehow came here. So sorry to hear of the passing of your sister. I lost my father from cancer and he, like your sister, potted cuttings of a fig tree his father brought back from their family ranch in Italy. He nurtured those figs through his illness, and gave us all something to remember him — although there’s much much more to him than figs! I do hope you are healing. Your sister is right there with you! Wish me luck in the paint color drama 🙂
Michele – thank you for your kinds words. Love that fig tree story.
Best of luck with the paint!
Peggy
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Just last month, I gave away another clipping from my plant. Working on two more requests from friends. Fran lives on!!