Christmas continued to throw up on Ali’s tree for a second year here without her. Can you believe I left off a good 30 ornaments too? And her lovely prelit tree is no longer lit AT ALL. Not one light. So I had to stretch the few strands extra we had from the previous years when only a couple strands were out. But there is so much crap on there, you can hardly notice the lack of lights! 
I hope you all had a great Christmas. Much love to you and yours this holiday season.
Love, Melanie.
Ali’s friend, Sarah, posted this on my FB. So much meaning in this creepy ass tshirt. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Yes.
In case you wanted to purchase this nut-job tshirt.
Some friends at Jazzercise are having a cancer awareness night tomorrow. Funds raised are going to the Bonnie J Addairo Lung Cancer Foundation. They are holding it in memory of our dear Ali. So because of this, tutu’s and pink are expected. Coordination is secondary, don’t worry. I’ve never done it, but if it’s anything like my first experience at Zumba, I will be dancing around like a half drunk college girl on a bar. (Which I’ve never actually done, but certain it’s not pretty.) Also, I’m incapable of holding back laughter at myself when I’m no good at something. So, I’ll see you there? It’ll be fun. Just wait to point and laugh at me when my back is turned.
Peace, Melanie.
Ali,
God, has it really been a year? I think back over the last 12 months and I can barely remember what Iʼve done. It feels like a blur, like a strange dream that I canʼt wake up from. There was a time when i didnʼt think I could make it to the next day and here we are a year later. And as weʼve been approaching your anniversary, I canʼt help but think about all the details of those final days. Most of it is torture to think about. Making those final decisions about your care and watching you in so much pain and listening to you calling out my name and looking into your eyes and holding you as you left this world. Itʼs too hard to think about and lately I canʼt stop. The one thing I try to focus on is our last night together before you went into the ICU. I was considering going home for the night and letting your mom stay at the hospital, but for some reason I felt like I needed to be there. I didnʼt think much of it, since spending the night in the hospital with you had become the new normal for me. We talked and laughed and laid on your hospital bed together and snuggled. It was our last night on this earth together and I remember how pleasant it was. We had a little movie night in the hospital room and you fell asleep looking very comfortable and pain free, which was a rare treat. We said “I love you” to each other that night before bed and had I known it was for the last time I would have said a lot more, but I take comfort in knowing that you went to sleep that night knowing that I loved you. Itʼs my last good memory of you.
The last time I wrote you a letter it was a few days after you left us and I was preparing a eulogy for your funeral. Then, just like now, I was alone in the dark letting the words pour out, trying not to let the tears get in my keyboard and for some reason, just like then, I felt like writing you a letter was the only way to tell you how I feel. Iʼve mostly kept my feelings and thoughts private throughout the year, but for some reason I feel an urge to post to the blog. Itʼs something I intended to do regularly but for some reason it just never felt right. You used to want me to write you love letters because you loved the way I write and if I had the chance, again, I would write you love letters every day of your life.
In some respects itʼs been a long year of regrets, thinking back on our life together and everything that I should have done. But, mostly Iʼve looked back on our life together and I wouldnʼt change a thing. Even knowing the indescribable pain that I would eventually go through, I wouldnʼt change any of it. I am who I am because of you. You entered my life and changed me forever. You made me a better person, a better man, a better father, a better everything. I spent most of my single years believing that there was a girl out there for me that was meant only for me and I only for her. I knew in my heart that she was out there and that we were meant to be together. And I found her. And she found me. And I believe it stronger now more than ever that I was meant to be with you, if only for a short time. And in that short time you loved me and changed me in profound ways. . .ways that will stay with me for the rest of my life, no matter what lies ahead. And you have given me the most amazing gift that I could have ever received. Olivia is a true gift and there is no doubt in my mind that she saved my life and continues to push me forward in times when I didnʼt feel like I could keep going. She is the driving force in my life and the love I feel for her is matched only by the love I felt and still feel for you. Thank you, Ali. Thank you for giving me that sweet little girl. I know that you are helping me with her every day and I know that you are guiding both of us.
Olivia is getting so big and so smart. You would be so proud of her. And I think you would be proud of me too. Iʼve learned so much over the past year. . .things that I thought I would never know and things I thought I would never have to do. I remember the first time I tried to do some clothes shopping for her and I was so scared and nervous. I had no idea what I was doing and I just knew that you were watching and cringing at the stuff I was picking out. Those first few times were difficult but now Iʼve got the hang of it and I love shopping for her. . . a little too much I think. I especially like the looks that I get from mothers that are surprised to see a 33 year old man putting together cute outfits in the girl toddler section at Target. Iʼm definitely not on your level, yet, but Iʼm getting there. I think Iʼm surprising a lot of people with Oliviaʼs wardrobe. Of course, we still have all the clothes that you were buying online when you were in the hospital. Iʼm so glad you did that. I remember when you were starting to get sicker and sicker and I finally gave in and gave you the go-ahead to buy whatever you wanted and how happy that made you (not that you wanted or needed my permission). If I could do it again, I would have taken out all the credit I could to give you an unlimited shopping spree on zulilly.com. It would have been worth every penny.
She is doing so many new things. I wish the past year wasnʼt such a blur and I could remember everything. Sometimes I think about all the things I would tell you if I was able to see you again or even talk to you on the phone. Every now and then when something funny happens or I need some advice, I pull my phone out and start to call you. Even now, a year later, I still do it. I would tell you so many things. How Olivia loves little baby dolls and how she loves to go shopping. She is so smart and so advanced. Even Dr. W has been shocked at how far ahead she is. She is talking like crazy now and even talks about you a lot. She loves riding in your car because itʼs “Mommyʼs car!”. She points you out in pictures and constantly wants to grab my phone, which she can navigate perfectly, so she can look at pictures of Mommy. I sing “Three Little Birds” to her every night so she will grow up loving Bob Marley just like you. And she knows all the words. Sometimes when I put her in bed I tell her to say hi to Mommy for me in her dreams. I hope you visit her in her dreams and I hope you have fun times together. Everyone is so amazed at how well she sleeps and Iʼm convinced itʼs because you watch over her at night. . . and hopefully to take care of me too and let me get good sleep. We are potty training and sheʼs getting really good. Weʼre not quite there, yet, but sheʼs getting better and better. It makes me sad to think about all the things that you would be teaching her and showing her. You and I felt so strongly about keeping you home to raise our kids and my heart breaks every time I think about what life would be like with you being at home and greeting me every day after work. I can just picture you and Olivia playing dress up and having tea parties and reading all of your favorite childrenʼs books. She still goes to Library every Monday so hopefully she will have the same love for reading as you had. Maybe when she grows up she will even give me a hard time for buying books instead of checking them out just like you did. Weʼve been on several trips this year. I even took her on a plane by myself, which was an adventure to say the least. Planes and airports and connections and checked car seats and rental cars and strollers in the security check points. . . we went through it all. It was tough, but it was worth it. Even then I knew you were taking care of us. It had to be you when I got to the gate for our first flight and I was so scared and then our friend, Becca, appeared out of nowhere and just happened to have a stand by ticket for that flight. And when she made it on the flight, she got sat directly across the aisle from us and the only empty seat on the flight was right in between us. She was so helpful on that flight and I knew it was you helping me out.
There are so many other things. I guess when I think about it, life is going on. Olivia and I are moving forward and beginning to make it through life together on our own. Iʼm trying so hard and Olivia is such a good sport and makes things easier on me when she can and I hope you see all of it and are proud of us. I know there are times when Iʼm doing something that you would do differently, but I hope, for the most part, Iʼm doing a good job raising our daughter. Itʼs the most difficult thing Iʼve ever done and I have the most wonderful support system and I hope that you continue to guide me and teach me how to be a better father. And some day I hope you can give me the words to explain to Olivia how much her mother loved her and how hard you fought in your final months and weeks and days. I am crushed every time I think about her not knowing you as she gets older, but I also know that there are lots of people out there that will never let her grow up without knowing all the little stories about you. Thatʼs the beautiful thing about you, Ali. You had an impact on so many people and changed so many lives. Itʼs incalculable. And Olivia will know that.
Iʼm not sure what lies ahead in the next year or the next 10 years or 20 years, but I know that I miss you like crazy, every second of every day. Itʼs impossible for me to describe how much I miss you. The only comfort I have is that you are watching over us and guiding us just as you did when you were here in the flesh. I love you so much and I always will. Your leaving has left such a massive hole and has crushed the ones that love you in such monumental ways. . . but we are all pulling together and pushing forward. We are surviving and I know you are watching us with a smile on your face and we all know that some day we will see you again. Some day Olivia and I will be able to hug you and kiss you and tell you all about the life weʼve led after you left us. Until then, keep watching and know that I, and all of us, miss you and love you with all our hearts.
XOXO, Ben
**To see the rest of the pics of Olivia and Ben click HERE.
To Ali, our Angel,
In this blur of a year I have learned so much. I learned that “God’s will be done,” is no joke. Just as mom says, “He will find a way”. I’ve accepted that all the “what ifs” don’t matter. I learned that in order for this crazy pink community to come together He had to take you. People needed to learn about your story in order to gain perspective in their lives. Your short life started the ball rolling for so many other lives in ministry, service, and forgiveness. Look how many kids/adults we have made smile through book and tutu donations. I still regularly receive messages from strangers saying how much you have changed their lives. Even ones who are facing the cancer battle, but you have helped prepare and give them courage to fight. Most days I think, “well, life must go on.” But truly, it’s going on much differently since.
Your baby girl is not so much a baby anymore. She’s TWO! And just like the rest of the girls in our family, she’s strong willed and feisty! She’s finally starting to look a lot more like you as she gets taller and thinner. Her eyes look just like yours when you were little. I hope as she grows, your looks will become more apparent in her. She’s talking like crazy. She tells us what to do and isn’t afraid to tell us NO. EVER. She has your gentle nature and of course, obsessed with babies. She and Nori like to love on them a liiiiittle too much. She can’t leave Nico alone, she has to be in his face or squeezing him. In a 30 minute time frame when the girls are together, they will kiss and hug no less than 10 times, pull each other’s hair, shove to the ground and then sit and play with their babies like they are real. They act more like sisters than cousins. When you ask either of them who is your bestfriend, they will respond with the other’s name. Hilarious. We all try and talk about you as often as possible to Olivia. When I was at your house last, she picked up the pic of you and her off her on your nightstand and hugged it while shouting “MY MOMMY!!” Just last night I was flipping through your FB images for her and she loved it. She has all sorts of videos she can watch of you but I’m also so glad you recorded that audio book for her. When mom found that, we were beyond thrilled because no one knew you did it. It’s apparently evident how hard it was for you to record and I just can’t bring myself to listen to it. I’m still healing.
When we hear of someone else going through something awful, we can’t imagine ourselves to be in their shoes. We shudder to process the thought of experiencing the loss or pain. Is it strange that I still can’t imagine what it’d be like to stand next to your bedside, waiting for your final breath? Yet somehow, I have already experienced it? How? How did I get through that? When I think of how I frantically raced to my neighbors, barely dressed, hugely pregnant, knocking and leaving Nori with no explanation in her arms. Speeding to the hospital barely able to focus through the tears. Throwing up immediately upon seeing you in the state you were in. Praying you “through.” Kissing you goodbye? That was ME? How did I do all that? Through our faith, is the only obvious answer. I know it had to be me. I had the nightmares for the first 6 months to prove it. I’d wake in a heart racing panic, dreaming about your bald head. Your pink pajamas. Long, gasping breaths. The machines beeping. Your eyes that wouldn’t open no matter how desperately we wanted them too. And then they did, and I wish they wouldn’t have. I imagined your fear of letting go, penetrated deep in my soul and I will never forget it. It was burned in my brain for so long I thought I would never remember what you looked like before those final hours. It took a long time to be at peace with the fact you indeed are finally out of pain. I know those memories are worthless. It’s my emotional pain, you feel none of it anymore. In fact, even on that day, it likely hurt us more than it even hurt you. But I still occasionally wake up shaking in the middle of the night feeling your cold skin in my hand. Seeing you after. HOWEVER, more often I see you in my dreams happy. I see the Ali i knew for 27 years before you were sick. Sometimes that torture is even worse because it’s not my reality either. I try and close my eyes and drift back into sleep to see you again and it’s always nearly impossible. Some nights I try and focus on you just before I fall asleep hoping you will visit me in my dreams. I wonder if it’s really you visiting my subconscious. I wonder if the dreams I have where you tell me “souls are destined to be together” will really come true. Even in the last day or two I have had a rush of jittery anxiety and fear. The exact feelings I had when you went into the ICU the day before. I thought I could avoid it, but it’s happening against my power to stop it. People texting/sending things/emails are all very sweet and thoughtful. I am very happy to have those people, but it also serves as a reminder opening a scabbed over wound. I’m back to where I was one year ago. Raw.
You know, almost as soon as everything happened I had this careless feeling wash over me. It still comes and goes but mostly I feel invincible. It’s a funny feeling and maybe those who have lost a loved one can better explain it than me. Some times I have so little worries because I know you are protecting me. It’s like I’m so confident you are with me, I imagine you wrapping us in this large protective bubble. Maybe I sound so silly for being naive, but I assure myself all the time that you got my back. Mom says the same thing.
(Literally, just moments ago, you made yourself known. I was sitting here reading over this letter to publish and I looked down to see no diamond in my engagement ring. WTFFFF. Rewind to this morning when I happened to look at it and remember I forgot to clean and tighten on my anniversary like I always do. So to see those prongs EMPTY, I immediately panicked and started to well up. With a “HOLY F*CK, Ali, PLEASE HELP ME FIND MY DIAMOND PLEEEASE.” I got on my hands and knees and crawled from living room to bathroom to bedroom. Within seconds of pleading to you, I found it hardly glistening (Eww soap scum) between the wall and Lilo’s water bowl. Seriously? And I find myself questioning if you are with me. In less that one minute. ONE MINUTE. That diamond could have been anywhere. I’ve been up for hours already, inside/outside/shower, ANYWHERE. And there it was. Thank you, sister. And of course, ::fist punch:: my bro JC.)
Since I can’t understand the “afterlife” and when you are and aren’t with me, it took me a long time to get over the thought you *could* always be in the room with me. I mean, I want you close to me, BUT I also felt like every thought, every action, I am being judged. When I drag Nori to the corner I see you shaking your head, “just have more patience with her.” When I let Nico cry so I could just lay in bed a little bit longer after minimal sleep, “Go get him! You don’t know what I’d give to hold Olivia in the night when she cries!” When I’d think something hateful about someone, “That’s not very nice, you are a better person than that.” When Adam and I…ya…that took some real getting used to. I can only assume you can be anywhere and see everything you want. I guess the feeling of being judged is silly, but it does in the end make me strive to be a better person. I don’t want you to be disappointed in me more now than ever.
Though the dirt is all settled, monument supposedly there, I’ve yet to go back to your place of rest. Forgive me? I’m sure I would be fine, but it just seems like it would be too much torture and really, what’s the point? Some people find peace at cemeteries, I however can’t separate myself from your earthly body being below me. I can talk to you anywhere and I know for certain I will feel no more peace standing above you than I would sitting in my living room. Maybe that’s an excuse? I don’t know, but I know I have zero desire to go back.
So this is it. Our first year is in the books. We’ve made it. I can only speak for myself, but I know I am healing. Slowly. It’s very strange to think a full year has passed since I last heard your voice. Heard your laugh. Waited an extraordinary length to receive a reply to my text. Though some days it’s been terribly hard for me to find the time or desire to keep up with this blog, I’m so glad I have. Lots of memories I have preserved for myself and for Olivia. A place for your friends to write about you as well. Memories will fade and slip from my mind as years pass and I don’t want to forgot all the funny shit you did. We will continue to carry on your legacy and our hopes are that one day everyone knows who you are. I hope you are proud of what we’ve done here.
Happy first Angelversary, seester. For now I must say, when the time is right, I will see you again. Not too soon though, I have so much more learning to do and things to look forward to here! But I have to tell you, my thirst for Paradise has never been stronger.
Love, Smelli.
I’m getting closer to forgetting you in your frail, sick state…
…and only thinking of you as the bubbly blonde you always were.THIS is Ali.
These are my sisters.
Brother “Bro” Bob was a dear friend of Ali’s through Purcell Marian. She would always tell me about the ridiculous things she got him to do and through this entry, he will confirm that. Thanks for sharing Bro! I’m sure you miss her dearly. I love what you had to say and that wig pic of you two is by far my fav! You are such a good sport! Love, Mel.
~~~~
Today we celebrate the Solemnity of All Saints. As we know, there are thousands of saints officially canonized in the Church…St. Francis of Assisi, St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, insert-your-favorite-saint here. They have special days appointed to them, and here in Rome you can even sometimes see their bodies (that might be more appropriate for the eve of All Saints Day – Halloween!) But today and its accompanying feast tomorrow (All Soul’s Day) always turn my thoughts to those “other saints,” those who have not been (and probably never will be) officially recognized by the Church. And yet, by knowing them, they have helped me and continue to help me on my journey towards holiness by the witness of their lives and the lessons they have taught me.
In a special way this year, my attention has turned to one of these “saints,” my dear friend Ali Nunery. I first met Ali when I was working in Cincinnati. Near this time last year, she lost her short but heroic battle with a rare form of lung cancer. Today’s feast seems like a perfect opportunity to reflect on her life and some of the lessons she taught me.
Though it’s a sad day for us to celebrate without Ali, I know she’s still celebrating with us. I’ll still make enchiladas for our family like we have the past few years. Though I won’t have anyone to yell, “I-yi-yi!” with while I sprinkle the cumin onto the chicken, I’ll still do it and think of you. That is, if I remember the cumin, we often forgot! Oops, important ingredient in a Mexican dish!
Because she loved to be festive, here are some random pics I have on my computer of everyone playing dress up with Ali. (Though a couple of these aren’t Halloween.) Be safe and have fun tonight. I hope you all fulfill your sweet-tooth’s desires!
Love, Melanie.
…We have “pasta Tuesday” every single Tuesday. I’m at Yoga and Adam’s skills in the kitchen include boiling water and forgetting to turn off the oven. But he’s really good at spaghetti with red sauce. Whenever I clean the pots and dishes, I have to smile. You taught us that it’s NOT ok to pour your spaghetti sauce straight out of the jar, onto your pasta. You heat it up in it’s own pot. “Those small pots are called sauce pans for a reason.” You also used as many dishes and utensils as possible when cooking and presenting a meal. I obvi like to do as little work as possible after cooking. You liked to get a bowl out for each ingredient to set on the table, which pissed me off since I was always on clean up committee when you cooked. While I still don’t agree with using every item in our cabinet, I will at least enjoy some warmed sauce on my pasta, and think of you.
…Going through Olivia’s clothes helping get her stuff together for her second year photos was frustrating. Ben had gone shopping, but I wanted to pick out what I know you would have wanted her to wear. I just wasn’t sure if you’d think it was perfect enough or not. You loved playing dress up with her. In fact, I think part of you wanted to have babies just so you could play dress up. Even for her one year pics, you were in the hospital so I had to do it then as well. I suppose I might be helping do it for the rest of her adolescence? This year wasn’t as bad because there was still a bunch of outfits left that you bought her. During your depressed times, you bought a bunch of clothes for future years because you were certain you wouldn’t be around to shop for her when she was in 2T, 3T, etc. While I was pissed your were shopping that far out at the time, I am happy you did it for this very reason.
…It’s not often I hear the song, “Ignition” by R. Kelly, but when I do, what a huge smile on my face. Remember being in Snowshoe with your students and Cory and Austin singing AND dancing to it? OMG. Right after the “how many cheeseballs can you stuff in your mouth” contest. That was such a fun trip. I can so easily hear you laughing at those kids. I’m sure they miss you just as much as anyone.
…Whenever I see someone wearing your pink bracelet still, almost a year out, I realize how much you really moved people. It really makes me happy inside to see the bracelets floating around. I still have people asking if we have any left because they want to continue to think of you daily. Mine has fallen off various times. Each time I think it’s you saying it’s ok to not wear it anymore. To let go a little. But then I always find it. Sometimes in the most random places and I can’t for the life of me figure out how it got there.
…My SIL’s mom was throwing out a wreath over the weekend. I saw it in the trash and for some unknown reason, I decided I should recycle it. I don’t have time for DIY crap. But this (you) wreath spoke to me. “Don’t let that go to waste. Little spray paint. Little embellishment. Perfection.” I wanted it to be teal but no such luck. So pink it is. Of course. You’d be proud that i’m takin the time to get all crafty up in here.
…I had to go to your house to dig out some costume stuff for Britt. While I was there, I grabbed some clothes and jackets for us. (Which btw, Britt found a bloody used tissue in one. SICK. But so not surprised.) I have checked your closet so many times over the past year for this blue shirt that I borrowed a couple years ago. You said you loved it on me and so I desperately wanted to have it. It was not there and suddenly it appeared a couple days ago. Just in time for me to wear it for my family pictures. Thanks for letting me find it! It matched my new skirt perfectly!
…Of course I’m making our Halloween costumes this year. Nori’s costume is a tribute to you. I can just see your eyes lighting up, hands near your heart with quick little claps, all giddy with excitement. The best part is that she talked about you as she was trying it on because she thought of you as well.
’tis the season.
…A client gave me a bunch of Japanese candy for my birthday. A few packs were SOUR cotton candy infused with pop rocks. UM WHAT? It was delicious, duh. All I could think about was how much you would have loved it. The pack I had was sour apple which was your favorite. Against everyone’s wishes you continued to hide candy in your nightstand each hospital stay. Ok, maybe you gave up on the hiding thing after awhile. One time I was almost to the hospital and you called insisting I detour to some place that sold blow pops and Haribo gummibears. The sour apple blow pops were always the first to go. Then of course you’d chew the gum like a damn horse and that made me crazy. Sometimes you would steal my suckers because “I just need one lick, real quick.” I always fell for it, even though I knew I would never get my sucker back.
…Recently we had to reconstruct mom and dad’s pond. I know you like to communicate with her via deers, but If i find out you sent those deer through her pond as a sign, then so help me! With the help of all of us and a LOT of hours, the thing is finally balanced, with pretty waterfalls AND stable. Did we enjoy any bit of doing it? Nope. Mom kept saying how you were the only one who loved doing yardwork with her. Flowers and plants were your thing, not mine and Britts. (I still have leaves from last fall in my yard!) We will continue to help them keep their yard pretty, just channel some of your green thumb into me so it’s not so painful. Pleeeease.
…I’ve recently photographed a couple of your friends. Both sessions went really well and I so wanted to hop in my car to call you and tell you all about the cuteness I just captured. This week I had an especially hard time because it was a baby girl who I know you’d refuse to put down if you were in her presence. On my way home, you clearly saw I was having an emotionally rough drive. I know you had that van cut me off to snap me out of it. The large “Purcell Marian Cavaliers” bumper sticker told me so. Thank you for your little reminders. They never go unnoticed.
…Speaking of your friends. Multiple have had babies, others are currently pregnant, and one recently engaged. Everyone of them knows you had your hand in each of these things. It’s sad to me that you won’t be throwing wonderful showers with cutesy details but it makes me happy that you are so clearly still involved in their lives. Maybe it’s not with nursery ideas or wedding details, but experiences you are sharing with them in a different way. I know you are celebrating for them up there.
…The phrase, “come on Ali, help a sister out,” is the most overused phrase of my inner voice. By the 4-5th time I’m in the kids room each night, I finally beg for your help to keep them asleep for me. Some nights you pull through, other nights I know you are teaching me patience. Teaching me I need to enjoy those hours awake through the night because they won’t always be little. They won’t always need me like this. But seriously, can you give me at least 4 hr stretches once in awhile. I’m freaking tired.
Ali and Martha stealing babies. I wish more than anything you could have taken this picture of you two holding your own babies together.
Ali and I worked together for five years at Purcell Marian High School. One of my favorite years there was the last year that the Four Musketeers were all there together – Ali, Jen, Bob, and me. We did pretty much everything together. And if one of us was planning something, then it was expected that the rest of us would help out in some way – i.e. Turkey Bowl, Food and Clothing Drive, Kairos, Shantytown (sleeping outside to raise awareness for homelessness) – the list goes on and on. We did our share of service projects together and, because of Ali, we made sure it was never dull when doing it.
In fact, that reminds me, no holiday went uncelebrated, no staff birthday unrecognized during Ali’s time at PM. The library was always decorated for the seasons, which employed the free labor of students to pack and unpack her many containers of decorations. And we always participated in the dress-up days (and she usually got others to do it too, just because she’s Ali). I think my favorite dress-up outfit is a tie between our 80s wear and Disney outfits. We were serious when it came to dressing up. We searched Goodwills and local thrift stores together just to make sure we were the best dressed. The year we took students to Disney World for Intersession (and yes, it was educational), we decided it would be fun to dress up as Disney characters for our station at the annual Purcell Marian Walk. Yep, at the intersection of Erie and Marburg Aves, four adults dressed up to cheer on the students. We got lots of stares, a lot of honks, and lots of people took our picture too.
After that year, Bob and Jen moved on to new adventures and Ali and I returned to PM the next year. Things were different after that. I had a baby boy over the summer and returned after maternity leave. It was a difficult transition for me. Coming to work with less than four hours of sleep wasn’t compatible with 7:50am homeroom. Ali was also known for her tardiness to school – she just wasn’t a morning person. During that year, there were actually several days when she made it to school before I did. Somedays we both would be sprinting from our cars at 7:48am to make it before the bell. Ok, I was the one sprinting, Ali was just walking briskly because she didn’t sprint or run or anything like that. And I knew it was bad if I pulled into the parking lot and her car was there before me.
As many of us can attest, Ali was especially great at two things – celebrating birthdays and taking care of babies. Since Jen and I both had a birthday in March, Ali would insist on making dinner for all of us to celebrate. When Ali was in the hospital in March right after her cancer diagnosis, Jen and I decided that we still needed to celebrate our birthdays as we had done for years so we brought the cake to Ali’s room with candles (that we couldn’t light because of the fire hazard-oops). It was difficult to celebrate considering the news we were all trying to grasp, but Ali didn’t allow her fear or pain ruin the moment. And I witnessed her live that way into the fall.
Ali’s ability to take care of babies still amazes me. My son, Liam, came to school with me on several occasions in that first year. As soon as Ali found out that Liam was in the building, she would summon me to the library, which I gladly obliged. It was hard for me to get any work done when he was there. I just didn’t have the knack for typing with one hand and a baby in the other arm. Whenever Ali cradled Liam in her arm, he would fall fast asleep. Two hours later I’d receive a call from her saying I needed to send up a diaper and wipes and that he might be hungry too. And can someone please tell me how she was able to clean up a really messy diaper with one measly wet wipe? Seriously. It took me five or six wipes when I witnessed her manage one of those poops with one wipe.
Not only was sleep deprivation killing me that year, but it was also the year that I started prerequisite classes for nursing. When I first broke the news to Ali and Jen, they were excited for me and Ali said, “you’ll be a great nurse, Shannon.” Those words continue to ring throughout my head. I heard them during my 13-month accelerated program at UC. When I thought the intense classes and clinicals were almost too much to bear, her words echoed in the back of my mind. I heard the words as I took my licensing exam in September. As I sat in the testing cubicle, I said one last prayer to Ali and I sent up a silent thank you to her when I received the news that I had passed. I recently accepted an RN position at University Hospital and everyday I feel Ali’s presence with me as I’m caring for patients. I know she is there to remind me to be patient, to be compassionate, and to give the best care possible no matter the circumstance. Lastly, to honor Ali, I bought a pink stethoscope, and even though it’s not the most fashionable accessory, at least I’m rockin’ pink everyday.
Dress like a student day.
Dress 80’s day. Oh wait, maybe this one was “dress how you do on the weekends” day. 🙂
I love this picture of you three. I hope you both have it framed.
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Thanks for sharing Shannon. I really enjoyed hearing those memories because I remember them so clearly. I can assure you that you are a great nurse. I know that Ali is SO proud of you for pursuing. I hope you continue to think of her often. Maybe you can channel her diaper changing skills while changing your future babes? Thanks for being such a good friend to her. Love, Melanie.