"e" for Erin

My history with Mary and Dave and their family goes way back to when we were young parents. When we first became neighbors they had two children, we had two. We each added two more children to our families. Mary and I were pregnant together for our last babies.  Their Erin and our Gretta, born just a few months apart, were very good buddies as little girls. Our families had picnics together, suppers, ate donuts, walked around the block together, went to the zoo, had big wheel parades, picked pumpkins in the fall, sat on our porches together, shared hard times and such fun, fun times. We all grew up together. When we moved east in 1996, we promised to stay in touch, and for the most part, we did. Sometimes better than others.

But three years ago, when Erin was diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma, a rare form of cancer, we were all stunned. We reconnected in a new way, and I wanted to be neighbors again, so, so badly. Now, years after we had moved away, I felt the awful vulnerability that this sort of diagnosis brings. I wanted to bring dinner over, I wanted to run errands, I wanted to make things better. So, cards and e-mails, prayers and a shawl had to substitute.

Last winter, Gretta and I went to visit with Erin and her family, on our way to look at colleges in the midwest. It was a quick, but joyful visit.

Erin's amazingly courageous fight with cancer ended this past December 18th, she was buried just two days before Christmas. Unable to get out to her funeral, I wanted to come visit as soon as I could. After my board meetings in Indiana, I flew to Chicago and spent these past four days with Mary, Dave, their sweet dog, Keenan and the memory of beloved Erin.

How much can you pack into a few days? So many conversations, punctuated with tears, laughter, and memories. A walk at night in the snowfall, a visit to Erin's beautiful, peaceful grave site (under the boughs of a pine tree), a walk in the woods on a bright, sunny day, a visit with Chris, (Erin's sweet oldest brother), word games, dinners by candlelight, sharing favorite movies, reading articles about Erin's volleyball career and the inspiration she brought to others when she was no longer able to play,  and looking at cards sent by friends and family. I got to know Erin better...her courage, her steadfast faith, her determination to  be just a normal teen, and the way she inspired so, so many people with her uncomplaining ways.

And on Tuesday night, Mary, Dave and I did something together that we will remember forever, and I'm guessing, somehow, Erin knew what we were up to. Dave had Erin's volleyball  number "8" tattooed on his wrist and Mary and I had a lower case "e" for Erin tattooed on our wrists.  The whole experience at the tattoo parlor was amazing...both hysterical (three white, middle aged, suburban folk getting tattooes together???) and spiritual, and the four of us are now connected in a new and very special way. On the way home on the plane, I had an epiphany that the "e" is also a reminder to me that "every day is a blessing". (Thank you, Erin).

I am so deeply grateful for this visit. It has helped me to grieve, to reconnect with dear friends and to be changed by the life of one extraordinary young woman. Thank you, Mary and Dave, for sharing your sweet Erin with me, even now.

Rest in peace, dearest Erin, rest in peace.