We're All Terminal, But That's Not Bad

"Patty, we're all terminal. I just happen to know what might get me." Joanne laughed last year when the rumors of her impending death reached her ears. She didn't even know what kind of cancer she had yet, whether it was (fingers crossed) breast cancer or if the kidney cancer had spread. She assured me it wasn't time to plan her funeral or pick out the colors for her casket. Not yet, anyway.

Well, now it is.

Less than a month ago, I was blessed to sit across the table from Joanne and share in a time a prayer with her for our missionaries.

Three weeks ago today, I visited her in the hospital. She'd had a headache and they'd found brain tumors. 7 of them.

Yesterday, she passed quietly out of this world and into the one she's been looking forward to for as long as I've known her.

My first memories took place in Joanne's apartment, or with her and Ron in our little house. They were family to us, though we weren't related by blood. I have so many memories and almost all of them revolve around her thinking of and doing for others... always with grace and style.

She used to have a garage sale every June and would spend weeks collecting from people at church to raise money to build houses for poor people in Mexico. The garage sale grew beyond the confines of her garage and moved to the church parking lot, but still she was in command, dolling out orders from beneath a fedora...or a beret...or a feathered bonnet...whatever random hat she'd picked out of the sale pile.

Anyone who knew her could tell you what she's done for others. But let me tell you just a little of what she did for me. She loved me like a daughter... and then like a friend. She made me want to be a missionary. If she could move to Chile with 5 boys, I could certainly go to Togo (sight unseen) with a husband and a team. She gave me her secretary desk, knowing it would mean more to me than to anyone else because it was a desk she and my mom purchased together when they bought Jessie's trunk back when I was a baby. I think of Joanne every time I sit at that desk and I always will.

One of the greatest things she gave, though, came clear to me in the last week or so. The last time I saw her awake, she gave me a big hug and told me several times that she loved me. I know she did the same for Mom and for others. It's as if she decided not to burden us with her suffering, but chose to spend the last weeks of her life passing down blessings to all who entered her bedroom.

As a final gift, it was a doozy. She was gracious and lovely to the very end. Kudos to my mom for picking such a lovely friend.