Bunkey turned 60 on April 3rd, 2017. When she was diagnosed with pancreatic neuro-endocrine cancer in the spring of 2011, we were told she would have 20 years. She passed away, peacefully, on June 11th.
I am a stream of consciousness writer. I do not edit well and punctuation, especially the correct use of the comma, escapes me. As a result, I have stayed quiet. At first it was because I didn’t know where to begin. Then it was because I was so damn lost. How do you go from speaking at least 4 times a day with someone, to not speaking to them at all? Finally, I just couldn’t find the words. As I sat in the funeral home with hundreds of her closest friends, I couldn’t help but think about how lucky I have been to know her and to be called her BFF. Perhaps you remember me stating that I had never known an adult that used the term BFF quite the way she did. Not only did she say it, she meant it.
Back on April 3rd, we thought she had hit a bump in the road and that she would be getting better. The latest round of chemo was harsh, but it had successfully reduced the tumors in her neck and she was feeling hopeful. Within a month, we knew that it would take yet another miracle to see her through another bout. She summoned her team, Tim, Rucci and I to update her funeral plans and pull together the list of most importants. She was heading into surgery on Friday and was afraid. We cried together, laughed together and then we all managed our way home. On Friday evening, when I spoke with Bunkey, we laughed at the thought that we might have needed those plans.
Less than a month later, heading into the same surgery for the second time, we felt a little different about the outcome. Ever the optimist, Bunkey said she was so much better. Within a week, we knew that wasn’t true. Again, as we hugged each other, we cried and laughed. There was much to do in the remaining weeks. Scrapbooks needed to be finished and goodbyes needed to be said. Then, on a Friday morning, a mere four weeks after she had been told there was nothing else to be done, she asked to be moved to a hospice facility. Bunkey felt like she was drowning. She had never wanted pain and the facility could keep her pain free. My dear friend was conscious for minutes over the course of the next two days. She passed quietly, Sunday afternoon, surrounded by loved ones.
I’m better these past few days. I speak to her often. I know she hears and understands. She always understood, that was her magic. I will never forget my dear friend and I know that I am a better person because of having known her.
