For the cure...

As I mentioned earlier in this blog, I lost my best friend last Easter.  She was the one person on earth I felt I couldn't afford to lose, and I still lost her.  She was my favorite co-conspirator, my inspiration, my mentor, the baddest of my bad influence friends, my heart... She died of breast cancer at age 37.

You'd think that her illness and subsequent passing would make me a crusader for breast cancer charities.  You'd think that I would be living a life absolutely awash in pink ribbons.  I am not.

See, I'm too angry, still.  Furious, actually.  All throughout the month of October when the checkout person at the grocery store asked if I wanted to donate a dollar to breast cancer research, I always replied with a curt, "Nope."  I didn't even have the courtesy to say "Not at this time, thank you."  Just a dead-eyed "No."  If someone had asked me why I couldn't spare a dollar, I would have said "Because they didn't cure it in time."

I know that's petty.  I look forward to the day when I can shed the burden of my anger and engage with the people who are trying to eradicate the disease that took my heart away.