Remembering JoAnn

Dear Friends – During Breast Cancer Awareness month, I’d like to share with you a letter I wrote to my dear neighbor JoAnn’s mother. JoAnn, who’d completed treatment for breast cancer in late 2008, sadly died the same week my mother did, back in February 2009 – that was a painful time. She was someone I knew only for a couple of years, but we connected as only girlfriends can. She was lovely, happy; warmth personified – and I miss her every time I drive past her former house - to mine, just next door. We all know someone who triumphed over or succumbed to breast cancer… no matter their path, they showed us the valor and single-mindedness it takes to challenge a disease with everything they had to give. Here's to all the brave women who fight the good fight...and to the men, families and friends who walk beside them.

Dear Mrs. M.:

I wanted you to have this letter on JoAnn’s birthday, so I hope it arrives on time. From the moment I first met JoAnn when she moved into the neighborhood, I knew we would be friends. She was kind and happy and sweet, and we had plenty to talk about every time we saw each other.

She had a boyfriend at the time, and as it got closer to Christmas, she talked about what she was getting him and said that she wasn’t good at wrapping gifts. Well, wrapping gifts is my specialty, so I asked if she’d like me to help… and that was one of the first of many great visits with my new friend. She was funny, and so very, very nice, and talked about you and her sisters and other family members, and her wide circle of friends (she had a LOT of friends!). She loved and respected you very much, and told me that she had learned a lot about life from you. We talked about our work, and I told her about my parents (who were both not very well at that time) and my family, and even months later, she always remembered everything I said about each one. When I left that night, she kept telling me how talented I was (even though I just wrapped a few gifts!), but that’s something she never failed to do, whenever our paths crossed. I suspect that JoAnn always left everyone she spent time with feeling really special, because that was her talent. She had a rare ability to raise others up, and to always give them what they needed.

I don’t need to tell you about JoAnn’s beauty, because it was there for all the world to see. She was a charming woman, with a beautiful face and wondrous smile, and a great voice and laugh (I loved the way her voice sounded, kind of musical and a little husky. I bet she had a lovely singing voice).  When she was going through treatment, and her gorgeous hair started to come out, she called me to ask if I knew of a hair salon where she could get her hair cut with some privacy. I called my friend Margie, who is a hairdresser (and whose sister Lizzie, also my friend, died of a brain tumor about 10 years ago). I knew Margie, with her great capacity for kindness, would watch over JoAnn at such a difficult time. 

JoAnn and I went to Margie’s house.  Margie was combing JoAnn's hair, and I, sitting behind her, could see it coming out in alarming clumps that made me catch huge sobs in my throat. Margie got JoAnn talking, and the three of us were laughing quite a bit, and every once in awhile Margie would say, “How about if I cut a little more off?”  I loved watching Margie, keeping the conversation light, and at the same time so sensitive to what JoAnn was facing with the loss of her hair. She did this a few times, patiently cutting up on the length, and bringing JoAnn along slowly. After a bit JoAnn said, “Margie, just cut it all off.” She was very matter-of-fact about it. 

On the way home, I was driving, and JoAnn started crying... and so did I. I said, ”I’m so sorry about your beautiful hair – I know this must be so hard for you.” And JoAnn said, “I’m not crying about that – I’m crying because everyone’s so nice to me.” Even that situation, as painful as it was, held such richness.  JoAnn was so brave, and so mindful of finding something to be grateful for in the middle of all the loss she was experiencing.  And I had the opportunity to see both of my friends’ strength and courage and humanity that night.

When her sister Paula was going through JoAnn’s things, she gave me some items she wanted me to have. Among them was a white embroidered fabric box, which had a gold and silver metal angel in it. I gave that angel to JoAnn the first Christmas I knew her. I remember thinking that she would like it, because she had such strong faith, and would like the box, too, because she had an eye for pretty things. I was stunned that this angel had circled back to me again, and when I mentioned to Paula that was the first gift I’d given her sister, she said, "Anita, that has happened a couple of other times when I gave JoAnn’s friends something – I didn’t know it, but I was giving them back something they’d picked out for her.” We both felt that JoAnn was guiding Paula that way. I was speechless when that happened… and the fact that Paula had given me several other Christmas items of JoAnn’s , when we’d had our first connection over wrapping Christmas gifts, made me even more convinced that my friend’s heart was still with me. 

I cannot leave my home without thinking of JoAnn, every day, several times a day, because I drive past her house so often. My heart breaks that this exceptional, loving, intelligent and incredible friend I thought I would have for the rest of my life is no longer there.

I loved it that she thought enough of our friendship to introduce me to her family whom she held in such high regard; that I have gained her sister as a friend; that JoAnn and I saw the world in much the same way; that she was always striving to learn more and do more and help others; that even though I had such little time to get to know her, she had such an impact on me, as I know she has had on many others. She was – and is – a bright and loving light, and I’m so thankful to have been able to call her my friend.

© 2013 A Bit of Brie/Anitabrie