I have not updated my travelogue as much as I should have this past while. There is so much to say about New Zealand, and how wonderful our trip was, and I don’t want to take away from that experience. However, my mind has been preoccupied, and certain things just haven’t seemed as worthy of my time lately. A wise woman has told me, “When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” This shift in perspective means, less time in front of the screen for now.

When 4 months of worry finally hit a person all in one instant as they did to me this morning, there isn’t much a person can do but cry. I choose not to cry anymore today, it goes against my very being to be sad or tearful. So while I say that, there are tears in my eyes as I type…I’m trying!

This blog is mostly impersonal, nameless, faceless on purpose. There is very little information you could gather about me from reading, besides my love of travel and silly anecdotes that I share with my friends and family. For the large part, that is how I like to be on the Internet–private and anonymous. Today, however, I have someone on my mind–one of my dearest cousins–an actual reader of this blog.

March 18th, just a little over 4 months ago, I was in the airport with my Fazh in New Zealand. We were waiting to fly home, and I received a text. The conversation that ensued in a very, very condensed version was basically, “The cancer is back, treatment starts tomorrow. Best case scenario is 2-4 years, worst case scenario is 2-4 months.” Each connecting flight, we would exchange a few more messages, until finally we landed in Vancouver, and were able to go visit. Those few hours we spent together that morning are some I will never forget. Nothing fancy happened, we chatted about homes and kids, talked about chemo, and just enjoyed each others company for the moment. When I left, she hugged me, and she meant it, like she might never see me again, so just in case she squeezed extra tight.

Treatment started March 19th. 4 months and 5 days later, Mikyn passed away. Tragically, after beating cancer twice, Mikyn lost a lengthy 4 year battle with ovarian cancer. I have not had someone ever present on my mind, the way she consumes my thoughts. This is not a person with whom I interacted daily, or even weekly. We could go years without physically seeing each other. However, she was probably one of my closest cousins I had growing up, and even to this day she is on my mind, and always will be.

Mikyn had a genuine presence. Listening to the speakers at her memorial service yesterday, I realized that everyone had the same truths about her, even if they experienced her in different aspects of their lives. She lived life as her authentic self. She did everything to the fullest capability of her being. In her short life, she really, really, really lived, loved and loved some more. A person with more kindness or sincerity you will never meet. And, of her beautiful soul, it just came sparkling out through her gorgeous green eyes. They were always twinkling, especially when she smiled. She was a beacon of radiant positivity, sought out by co-workers, friends and family as an uplifting force. Now, if you knew her, none of this comes as a surprise. You are reading, maybe fighting back tears, but you are agreeing with every statement.

Most of my memories of Mikyn involve being at the lake as kids. We were lucky to celebrate lots of her birthdays at the lake. She was selfless then as a child too. I don’t remember her complaining or whining that she wasn’t able to spend her birthday with friends from home. Instead she got a rag tag bunch of cousins, aunts, uncles, and whoever else might be there at the time, but we always had fun! We would run around, and drink sugary sweet pop, and eat Pringles and sunflower seeds. We’d feed squirrels and birds and catch minnows. It would be so hot that we’d spend all day swimming, boating and playing at the beach. We had birthdays, holidays, and family reunions together. And, all of those memories though bittersweet because she is gone, have become sweeter because she is in them.

As we grew older, we communicated more through e-mail, facebook or text messaging. We actually saw each other more often at bridal showers, weddings and baby showers too. Through this, I got to know the adult version of Mikyn. A beautiful, poised, graceful, confident woman who knew herself. Around her first bout with cancer, I found out that Mikyn loved cooking, and was actually a very talented cook. (I love cooking, but am really not very good!) She also shared my geeky loves of knitting and reading, so we would swap recipes, pattern ideas, book suggestions.

Yesterday, I was told that towards the end, Mikyn struggled, and wondered what her purpose here was. The answer to that is not so easily pinned down. She was a daughter who brought immeasurable joy to her parents. She was a sister, who is dearly loved and cherished by her amazing sister. She was a wife, who became a husband’s dream come true here on earth. She was a mother to an adorable little boy, so young that he will not remember her physical presence, yet her absence will be felt and she will never be forgotten. She had a very successful career, and was a co-worker, supervisor, and mentor to many. She was a great friend.

She was my friend. I know changing me was not her purpose, but I can tell you unequivocally that she has. When work was crazy, she taught me Burg’s Philosophy, “It’s not the time you put in, but what you put in the time.” Her grace through her illness inspired me to be a better person. To live in kindness and embody joy. To live with a positive spirit, to live in the moment, and never ever to take a single day for granted. To appreciate everything – every single thing. Stop for a second, and realized the magnitude of that. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. Not just the good things, but everything! Be grateful for all you have because it could be gone. If her life has inspired even one person to be better, then that is an accomplishment. But, we all know that it wasn’t just one; it was ALL of us. Every one of us who knew her is better by having had her in our lives.

I loved her from the first time I met her. I love her still. With all the words in the English language, there is no way to describe how dearly Mikyn will be missed. So while the tears have dried for for the moment, I will say, Happy 33rd Birthday to the sweet angel we are missing here on earth. And, out into the cosmos, to the new friends with angel wings, she didn’t get to celebrate her birthday very often with friends from home, please replace the rag tag bunch of us until we see her again.