It doesn't seem that long ago that cancer was a wholly defeatable thing.
I knew several people with cancer who did their time in the chemo chair, dropped some hair and came out the other side. Maybe they had a bigger appreciation for life or a greater respect for their bodies, but they came out mostly unscathed and unchanged.
When Mom told me she had lymphoma, I put my head in her lap and cried for a moment, but I cried because I knew she didn't have an easy road ahead. I also knew she would be just fine. And she was. She was good. She was making remarkable progress. Then she wasn't. Then she was dead.
Starting with Mom, almost everybody I know who was diagnosed with cancer has died.
Kristen, the subject of the spelling bee in March, died Sunday. She was good. She was clean. Then she wasn't. Then she was dead.
I'm so tired and sad. I didn't even know Kristen personally, but she is the latest representative in a long line of people who shouldn't have died. Her friends are my friends and our world is a sadder place.
My psyche is just shattered today.