Daniel Blake Fisher

Instead of an obituary I chose to write a letter to my friend. He wouldn’t have wanted something that felt fake so instead Ill chose the truth.

To My Friend Fisher,

July 10th I made you promise me to go to the ER. on July 11th I asked you if I could look at your medical chart. I promised you that day that you were not alone, I promised you I would be there every single step of the way. 11 weeks, 79 days. That is all the time you were given before Cancer took you away.

I made a promise to you that first day, I made a promise without knowing what I was promising. Without knowing just what I was promising. All I knew is someone felt alone, all I knew is you were suffering afraid.  I couldn’t let that happen. No one should ever have to be alone when their world is crumbling. So I promised you. I sat with you through it all, even when you were no longer awake I stayed by your side and kept talking to you, I was there as you left this earth and in the stillness of a heart that is no longer beating. I stayed for the hours after until they took you from me. Until they took away to be cremated. I promised you I would be there every step of the way, no matter what happened all the way to ending. I promised you I would take you home no matter what home looked like. Soon I will pick up your ashes and we will head out on one last road trip. The final part of our journey, the last piece of the promise I made. I’m taking you home to New Jersey where you can finally rest fully, right next to mom.

79 days can teach you a lot about just how precious and fragile life is. How quickly it can change. How a promise can be a lifeline for someone who is grieving while they are still living. How much anger can come from realizing the rest of the world doesn’t stop while you are struggling to cope with the weight of caring for someone who is dying. I’ve watched one healthcare system fail someone I love completely and another give you the peace you needed as your life was ending.

I learned what being selfless means, I learned just how heavy grief can be, how wide heartbreak can reach. Just how much death can change the core of your being. I learned just how strong one voice can be, how strong mine can be. What true gentleness can bring someone who is dying. How to be the calm in the middle of such a devastating disease, what the words courage and strength mean. What having a supportive partner who didn’t even question the promise I made and has stood with me every step of the way and showed up for you even though he didn’t have to be. How much that friendship ended up meaning to you in the ending.

I watched How the love for one person can bring together a work community, how much you meant to so many different people In so many ways. How grief looks different for everybody. How to give space and understanding that no one handles loss in the same way, that there is no one way to feel when you lose someone who meant something. I learned of others stories of loss and grief, of fears they had, of pain they carry. I listened to their memories and shared moments of laughter and tears of sadness and how precious memories can be.

I am still grieving the loss of you so deeply my soul aches. Grieving the bittersweet loss of someone I loved and cared for deeply. The relief I feel knowing you are finally free from this terrible disease and from pain. You are no longer suffering. I made a promise without knowing what it meant and how much it would impact me, and I would make it again and again even now knowing everything.

I refuse to be bitter, I chose to believe everything happens for a reason. In the wake of the devastation I have witnessed, in the absolute heartbreak and grief I have experienced and still feel so deeply. I chose to remember I have also witnessed and been apart of some absolutely beautiful things. I always find the beauty in things. In the memories and in the little moments that I will always carry with me.

Until we meet again.

Kristin