Fight, Hope, Live

I was reading my beautiful friend A's blog today and she was talking about tattoos. Discussing the one that she wants and why it means so much to her. It got me thinking about the tattoo I have been thinking about getting since my second year in university. 


The tattoo idea came from a girl I met in first year university. She was amazing, one of the most wonderful and different people I have ever met. I lived next door to her in residence and she introduced me to a new world when I met her. It wasn't like she was selfless or a saint or anything. She loved to drink, go out to the bar, gossip, talk about boys, talk about girls. She was a regular 20 year old girl who had just moved away from her parents for the first time. As much as she was an average girl she also had something, something that made people love her so much. She was intoxicating, she had a passion for life that was undeniable, she danced like the devil (in a good way) and sang like an angel. She would do anything for a friend and loved to tell stories, to anyone who would listen. I could go on and on about how amazing she was in every way and I could also tell you about what pissed me off about her because she wasn't a perfect person but she loved life and made me love it. 


We were walking home from the hip hop dance class I was taking (she was teaching) one day when J turned to me and said "my cancer is back, I know, I can feel the tumor and I'm scared to go to the doctor because I don't want them to confirm it". This stunned me, one because she was the bravest person I knew at the time, and two because at that moment I knew I would lose her. We walked home in silence holding hands because I didn't want to comfort her with empty words and she wanted to ignore her cancer for a little while longer. 


This was the second time J had cancer, when J was 12 she was diagnosed with a ridiculously rare type of cancer, she fought and she won. When 1st year came around she went back to the doctor and they confirmed her fear. I spent the next 2 years driving back and forth to the hospital in Halifax on the weekends and worrying during the week. It was an experience that changed my life, made me grow up and truly showed me the amazing person she was. Every time I walked into that hospital room she was smiling, ready to entertain and always up for anything, even though I knew she was in pain.


I saw so many aspects of this illness and how it effects everyone differently, her dad who never gave up hope (they ended up taking her to the US and she lived for 1 year 1/2 more than her original diagnosis). I saw her mom lose her will to do anything but be with her daughter (at the expense of her other children) and I saw her always enjoying the moment always remembering to live. 


When I think of J I think of living, of doing only what you want and not caring what people think. Of being proud of your strengths, your talents and being eager to share them with the world. She taught me it is okay to buy yourself things, and pamper yourself. She showed me how to live.


After she died I kept thinking of the tattoo; Fight, Hope, Live, things she did so well. I miss her terribly and I think it's time the tattoo makes it to my body. Thanks A for the encouragement.