Today... July 10th

They say that you don't fully grow up until you lose a parent.  Fortunately, I've not had that experience yet.  But I've had another kind of experience and today I mark that anniversary- the death of a dear, dear friend; my soul sister.  Megan Burness Yin died four years ago today at the age of 37 (www.lifestorynet.com/memories/38214).  She was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004 when eight months pregnant.  She dodged and wove her way through four years of treatment, mastectomy, spread, more treatment... all while giving birth and raising, the best she could, her beautiful daughter.  She wanted to make it to her daughter's fifth birthday and died four months short of that goal.  She was an awesome, crazy, fighter.  And she spent a lot of time lifting up others when she was in the chemo room, even though feeling like crap herself. 

She was indescribable.  So I won't try to do so here.  I did a lot of growing up in those years, sorry that that particular experience took me on that journey.  I miss her every single day and it's not gotten any easier, as "they" say.  I'm including below the words I shared at her funeral.  Doesn't do her quite the justice that I wanted it to; how can it ever?  But, today is all about Megan.

I would venture to say that every single person who has met Megan has a unique story about her, how she touched his or her life.  I’d like to share some of my Megan gifts with you.

I met Megan in graduate school at Case Western Reserve University.  Specifically, my first clear memory of her is meeting in the coatroom of the Cleveland Museum of Art, which isn’t quite as bizarre as it sounds since the Master’s program in Art History was housed at the Museum and they graciously provided two rows of the coatroom where we had the privilege of stashing all our stuff between classes.  

We bonded over a mini-crisis but soon discovered we had much more in common.  We shared a love of all things art, music, popular culture-  did you know you can have an intellectual conversation about who is the hottest guy on Homicide? 

We shared a passion for museum education, fashion, shopping... we almost shared a birthday … too many things to mention today.  Megan was fortunate to have an outstanding sister in Amanda.  I did not and Megan was my sister.

Our experiences- from the mundane to the life-changing- are, again, too many to mention.  We shared countless trips- complete with mix tapes- both as single gals on the road and as mothers.  We enjoyed concerts together… especially that Hall and Oates/Carly Simon gig at Blossom.  And other time together… movies at the Cedar Lee, trips to Tommy’s, a birthday party at the Lakewood apartment shared with Deb, porch nights in Oberlin, just hanging out … Watching her meet and become enamored with Jordan… and be joyfully awed by the miracle of Evan.

She taught me things.  How to be a better writer as I read her graduate papers for typos.  How to make the perfect Greek salad- she almost had me eating red onions.  How to make moves to new cities and new lives.  How to perfectly shop for and give the “combo gift”, a collection of little significant tidbits that, combined, made just about the most thoughtful and meaningful gift in the world for the recipient.  That skill should be copy written to her.  She taught me how to be a more courageous person as I saw her take career and life opportunities that seemed so brave to me.  And she kicked butt in every single one.

The last time I saw Megan we had a really interesting conversation about afterlife- the possibility of… and the possibility of visits by those who had gone on, maybe in the form of an animal companion or some other.  I hope I have the good fortune to be visited by Megan.  I know she will always be in my mind.  But, if she does visit, maybe it will be as the sun.  She pulled everyone closer with her radiance, warmth, and brilliance.  She might be a little mystified, or at least unaware of that effect and pull.  Perhaps thinking she was a little unworthy for such accolades.  Which we all know she wasn’t. 

I will think of her as the sun because she will always be present and close, shining brightly, warmly into my life and casting her light around.