My first new Florida friend, Loraine, died last year from brain cancer; And my book club friend, Jan, died a few days ago from ovarian cancer that eventually spread to her brain. I shared different things with them. But they both brought me happiness, joy, comfort, and love.
I've always struggled with goodbyes since I was a little girl; I don't do them well. I don't like good things coming to an end or permanently changing. I supposed we all feel that way too. As much as I don't like it and it's uncomfortable to talk about; I told myself after my Uncle Bob died from AIDS, I'd never ignore death or pretend it doesn't happen--to us all.
I shared on Facebook these memorials below as a way to let their families know that I haven't forgotten what special people they were to me. I supposed with each friend or family member who passes this world, I'll commemorate them too. It's not my favorite kind of writing. However, this kind of writing moves me the deepest.
Each of these souls I loved dearly; I truly saw God in them. I think that's why we miss them so much. Because 'love doesn't die, people do.'
Godspeed on your next journey, Loraine and Jan. 🙏💜
A year ago today, MFB (My Florida Buddy) Loraine Fitzgerld, died from brain cancer. When I think of her, I get choked up.
If you are one of my friends, I will love you madly. It doesn't matter if we talk every week or every few months or years. I will take in all things 'you' and hold it close to my heart like a precious gem. I will always remember you. I miss Loraine so much.
We met online (thank you, Facebook). We met in a FB group for women who were transitioning to gray hair. Loraine noticed that I mentioned that I was moving to Florida 5 years ago. She said, "When you get to Florida, let's meet." And we did. It was so funny because I was completely gray; she wasn't. The first thing she said to me in her wonderful New York accent was, "I'm sorry, I couldn't go gray after all." I laughed out loud. I loved her thick, dark, curly hair; I loved her New York accent. I told her not to think another thought about it-she was beautiful and we women always need to support each other and do what's best for us. We talked about our kids, our beloved husbands, and both learning how to adjust to recently transitioning to Florida, our inner hippy, Michael Franti, being vegan-ish, beach life, kitties and puppies, yoga and meditation. She was joyful, positive, and encouraging. I adored her instantly.
We often met for lunch and occasionally would invite our husbands to join us for dinner (Thai or sushi). We enjoyed them as a couple too; they loved each other deeply; and were settling into a new Florida lives too.
When I learned she had brain cancer, and quickly was taken into surgery, my first thought was, "OMG, no! Not MFB!" Life is so precious. Loraine was so precious. My second thought was, "OMG, all our lunches and dinners, I never took a picture of the two of us." (If you ever wonder why I do selfies so much, it's because I want to capture a moment with you.)
Loraine lives in me still. When I see anyone whose struggling to figure out transitioning into a new life, I love her by liking and loving you; I give her away often. Uprooting and transplanting to a new life is an adjustment; don't under estimate it. She gave me courage to settle into my new life here in Florida, first in Vero Beach and then here in Dunedin. I don't think I could have managed without her. We kept in touch in PM's all the time.
Now that I'm settled, I just wish she was here so we could share it together.
Now that I'm settled, I just wish she was here so we could share it together.
Her goodbye to me a year ago was metaphysical. It was a visitation the morning she passed. I'll never forget it as long as I live. If you ask me about it, I'll share it. But she came to me and said goodbye. Thank you, MFB!
Loraine left behind a wonderful husband and two devoted daughters; their loss is beyond words.
Even though you're not here with us, I know you're energetically more alive in spirit then ever--just elsewhere.
Today I will listen to some Michael Franti, do some yoga, go to the sea, eat some Thai food. And donate to Esther The Wonder Pig in her name. Love you, Loraine (MFB). 🤗💜🕊
It is with tears and a profoundly sad heart I share that one of our Dunedin Women Share & Connect community, Janice Barocas, died on Thursday.
She was my fast friend. We met in DWSC Book Club #1 (Page Turners). She had just recently found out that she had ovarian cancer. It rocked her world in so many ways. She confided in me that she had cancer but didnt want book club to know yet. She wanted to have something that was normal and fun for her. Over time she told the group. Your support meant a lot to Jan. She loved to devour good fictional books. A Tree Grows In Brooklyn was her favorite (I'm grateful we got to read it together as a group).
Even though I have only known Jan a year, it was like I knew her a decade. She reminded me of a younger version of my grandmother (who was everything to me). Jan and I shared the love of books, theater, some politics, and a zest for life and the Beatles. I didn't get a chance to tell her I got Rich tickets to go see Ringo; she would have loved that too. Jan taught ethics; we had interesting conversations about integrity and critical thinking.
The night she told me she had stage 4 cancer, we stood outside Joanie's house for an hour after everyone left. I listened to her tell me she was not ready to die yet. She didn't want to leave behind her family. In fact, she told me that often; her children and grandchildren were everything to her. She adored her husband and the life they shared.
In another life, I was in ministry. I've never had the most honest conversations about disease and death as I had with Jan. I supposed she felt we could 'go there.' I appreciated her transparency about her own personal experience. Often we keep things positive and light when there is a cancer diagnosis. Jan was more truthful in a way that humbled me. She was so articulate about what she was going through; I felt it. Our conversation would also be peppered with such love and encouragement and hope for the future. I drove home that night from our first book club, and sang out loud the Beatles 'Let It Be' as a prayer for Jan. I don't know why, I just sang it. I felt so sad because I knew her time was limited, and grateful for knowing Jan. From then on, I drove her to book club because she often had her treatments on Mondays in Tampa. I wanted to make sure she got to book club after a long exhausting day. We often sat in the car and talked and talked. She enjoyed book club and loved ALL of you gals in our group.
Jan loved the theater. She introduced me to the elegant Tampa Theater in downtown Tampa. We saw The Biggest Little Farm (such an endearing documentary). She also wanted us to see the movie Woodstock together too. Jan was truly fascinated with life; we shared that together.
She shocked me when she told me she went back 10 years and read every single one of my blogs. She would quote them to me. Jan made me feel known and understood (what a gift to give to someone). Since she was a college professor, I was initially embarrassed; I figured she saw every poorly structured sentence. But she was beyond gracious and supportive. She told me she loved my writing style and to keep writing.
I corresponded with her sweet daughter, Megan tonight. She is heartbroken. Jan died on the 26th. She was surrounded by her family. They knew she was quickly passing. Megan said, "I played Let It Be. I put the phone next to her head. During the song she let out a tear, took a few more breaths, then was gone." They are hurting and could use your prayers. My heart is hurting. I will miss dear Jan. 😥💔🙏
