The Wildflower Journal

While She Was Still Here — For Joanne

On Monday, we lost our friend Joanne.

I keep thinking about how I want to describe her, because saying she was brave or strong somehow doesn’t feel enough. Joanne was an inspiration.

Even after receiving a diagnosis that would have floored most of us, she was still finding ways to live. She was still doing her little workouts, still looking for different ways to eat healthily and look after herself, still smiling, still joking and still being part of the madness with the rest of us.

Cancer was something that was happening to Joanne. It wasn’t who Joanne was.

One of the things that has stayed with me most is that she wanted to have a living wake. Not a room full of people gathering after she’d gone to talk about how much they loved her — she wanted to be there for it. She wanted to hear the stories, share the memories, laugh with everybody and be surrounded by the people who loved her while she was still here to feel that love.

Sadly, she never got the chance to have it, and there’s something about that which I can’t stop thinking about.

Why do we sometimes wait? Why do we save the beautiful words for funerals? Why do we tell a room full of people how wonderful somebody was when the one person who really needed to hear those words isn’t sitting there anymore?

Maybe we should have more living wakes. Maybe we should tell our friends exactly what they mean to us on some random Tuesday. Buy the flowers now. Take the photograph now. Have the ridiculous conversation. Laugh until your stomach hurts. Tell people you’re proud of them, tell them they’ve made a difference and tell them you love them — while they’re still here.

Joanne didn’t get her living wake, so perhaps, in our own little way, we can give her one now.

We can remember the woman who kept smiling and kept joking. The woman who kept moving her body when she could and kept looking for ways to care for herself. The woman who, even while facing the end of her life, was still finding ways to live it.

And maybe we can honour her by doing a little more of that ourselves. Not because every day is promised to be beautiful, but because no day is promised at all.

So this one is for you, Joanne.

For the laughs, the memories, and everything you taught the people lucky enough to know you simply by being yourself.

I just wish you’d been here to hear us say it.

Sleep peacefully, our beautiful friend.

We’ll carry the laughter from here.