Dear Stacey.....Love From Lauren

For those who cry for a lost one....I do too.

Dear Stacey,

Firstly, where have you gone? I mean, I know you passed away (and I can't quite fathom that it has already almost been a month since that day you left), and therefore you are no longer physically around, but it still doesn't answer my question. Are you with Trent, giving comfort to him and whispering sweet memories in his ear, sharing your love through every ray of sunshine he feels? Or are you watching all of us, being constantly amused by all the little funny moments you might be privy to - did you see me pick my wedgie out this morning after my walk around the park? You might also see how missed and loved you are if you see us all - for you would see the tears in the quiet moments too then. Tears for how much we already miss you, and for the times we won't have together in the future. Tears for your family, and mostly for Trent, and tears for ourselves, for the laughs, the care you gave, and the light you brought to all situations.

You were a little battery charger for me. Thinking about your situation, your terminal cancer always made me feel so very sad, I'd despair what was coming everyday I'd think of you, which was often. But speaking with you and seeing you lifted me higher, with your talk of future activities and proactive searches for the magic remedy, and the promise of more wild and exciting stories to come. Each moment of interaction with you was so filled with zing that I'd hang up puzzled! Did you just cheer me up!? Surely I should be doing the cheering for you!?

But I did! I'd tell you boring stories of Lucy's latest snotty nose or ear infection and of how adorable Greg was as a father. I'd tell you how awful it was returning to work and how much I wanted to spend more time at home with Lucy. I'd tell you about my family, our renovations, our wake boarding trips and our holidays, you always surprised me with how much you wanted to know about every small detail of my life. Every second I spoke, I felt either ungrateful or guilty. How could I possibly whinge about my amazing life, how could I complain about not having enough time with my child? At least I have a child! But you were amazing! You didn't want to compare or compete, not ever. For we both knew that the cancer would be the ace up your sleeve. No, you wanted to be distracted from your own thoughts. You wanted to know what was awesome and upsetting in our lives all the time, because as you said "Loz, it's all relative".

I will forever be devastated that we didn't get to visit you that one last time - the time we both knew would be the last opportunity, yet neither of us could say. You thanked me on the phone for being included on my inspirational board and broke down, telling me you didn't feel very inspiring sometimes. My heart broke for you. And not even for everything you were going through.....but because you still didn't realise how AMAZING you were! How humble you were to never realise Stace that you were the centre of so many different peoples universe, that you brightened so many peoples lives with your smile, your laugh, your cheekiness and mischief. You were truly everyone's best friend, it certainly felt like you were one of mine. So I tried my best to explain in words that just wouldn't come out well, how very special you were to me on the phone that day. How affected I was by your presence in my life. How much I loved you, knowing you, calling you my friend, and being a friend to you. That day we both knew that would be our last conversation. And I cried like no other time when we hung up...

I have grieved for an expected death three times now. Once was over a few weeks, another only a matter of hours, and you over several years. My heart breaking just as deeply each time, tears still springing to my eyes when I ponder the precious ones. It is a hard and difficult grief, one that comes like a car accident you can't turn away from, everything moving in slow motion, yet still heading to the inevitable end. And it's sucks so badly because I hated feeling as though I was grieving you before you were even gone. And the helplessness I have felt over the time you have fought has been huge, but I feel I have played my part as a good friend whenever you needed me. And I am glad I could offer solace during those times. All conversations we have had remain in my heart and will continue so forever.

I'm so proud of you though miss Stacey, for fighting so hard. I remember spending that weekend at Wonnie with you and all the buddies, and our goodbyes felt so final. I worried it was all over then, that you wouldn't even get to meet our baby. Yet here we are, Lucy 16 months old at your passing - so proud of how hard you fought to hold on. You gave your life, your family, your Trent everything you had to stay for as long as you possibly could, and for that I am thankful.

A few years ago, on our way home from somewhere at nighttime, Greg and I saw a shooting star. And I wished for you Stace, for your health and for you life. And I remembered this the day after your memorial service. I told him that I had made that wish and was sad that it never came true. And Greg said, maybe it did. Maybe your miracle was that you were able to fight for so long, and maintain your health for as long as you did - beyond most people's expectations. Maybe....

And maybe its just not fair. That you, in your prime with life and all its glorious joys to come taken away from you. Its not something you deserved, that anyone deserves. Its not friggin fair at all. No, fair would be if good things happened to good people and bad things happened to bad people, but the older I get the more deeply I understand that fair isn't a concept that applies to life. Just games. We play by the rules with cards, with board games, with twister. And those that break the rules are out. But not so much in life. Fair isn't what life is about, is it?

Life is about grabbing each and every moment. Being proud of who you are and the person you've become. Owning your decisions and situations, even when they aren't what you have asked for or wanted. And making the most out of it all - good and bad. You did all of this without even trying Stace, because that is simply the kind of person you were. I often tell people how vivacious, energetic, fun-loving and crazy you were, but I'm sure they don't get it. They don't truly understand what I mean....only those that knew you get it.

You make me want to be a better me. To share my life freely with others and to take a genuine interest in their lives too. To hold back on the resentment and understand that every ones perspective is relative to their own experiences. To listen more. To try more things. And to one day be brave enough to do a nudey swim. I hope you knew before you left that your profound affect on all you came in contact with will live on for the rest of our lives, and I hope we can all share your love of life and true friendship with others too.

I sat around the table with friends after the service to celebrate your life, and it all felt so surreal. The service was amazing, I'm sure you know. But afterwards, I couldn't help feeling confused that I was expecting you to come around the corner at any point in time and take your place as the guest of honour. No, not because I believe in ghosts. But because it felt that you were there. Present. In our world. That nothing had changed. Like at any time I'd catch a glimpse of you chatting with friends, regaling them with another amazing Stacey story.

It has taken me a long time to process the fact that your fight has finished. That you don't have to struggle anymore. And while at first I was uneasy with the fact that I couldn't comprehend your death, I now welcome the feeling that somehow, somewhere, you are still just right here. With us. With your family. With Trent. Because you are still living on in us all, beautiful girl.

All my memories of you are ones of laughter, of fun, of being shocked at your wild stories, of precious deep moments talking faith and death. And I am just one person of the thousands you have known over your time here on earth. We will all keep your memory alive by talking about you. Sharing your stories, feeling your smile in the sunshine and your peace when near the water.

You are still here, you won't ever truly leave. Because even though you are in Heaven, you are in our hearts forever. And you'll always be precious to me.

I'll give Trent a squeeze when I see him next.

Love and miss you always,
Lauren. 

 On our cherished weekend with Stacey and Trent, August 2011

Ciao for now,
LG - Life's Good (and also sometimes shitty)