Those familiar with the early sentiments of this blog may remember there was a time a few years ago when my life, as I knew it, exploded.

And you know who saw that shit coming before I did? My cousin Joy.

And in the aftermath, while I was limping and wounded, my “day ones” showed up to carry me through hell: my family, my oldest friends, my cherished East coast touchstone humans …and you know who else showed up? My cousin Joy.

Joy is my third cousin. Our grandmothers were cousins who were great friends, our moms are second cousins close in age who have also spent their lives being great friends, and so it was inevitable that Joy and I would carry on the tradition of finding great friendship with each other in this lifetime.

We grew up in different cities about an hour and a half drive apart, so we didn’t see each other often. When we did see each other, I always looked forward to it …not only because it almost always involved a day at Disneyland, Knotts Berry Farm, or Magic Mountain, and not only because we got to team up in bossing our little brothers around, but because being with Joy was just a good fuckin time.

She was independent and opinionated with a strong-willed, trail-blazing spirit. I could always count on her to say what she means and mean what she says. And she had a way of letting you know you better not fuck around, because you’d certainly find out.

We were both lefties. Both freckled. Both a little sassy. As kids, we butted heads from time to time, both learning how to flex the same resilient, pioneer DNA as our moms and grandmothers.

And as adults we kept tabs on each other, mostly through our moms, while we respectively went out into the world determined to change it. I went to the east coast, she went to Northern California. We both pursued careers in education, just like our moms. I started my journey as a classroom teacher, she was built for leadership and became a principal. She moved up in the ranks and started working in accreditation and fancy, higher level education arenas. And whenever I talked with her, there was no doubt in my mind she definitely knew her shit.

We both found ourselves back in Southern California…saw each other a few times at family gatherings, all the while connected in spirit, no matter how much time passed in-between.

She went blonde, was into yoga and exercise, her body was a temple, her career was on lock, she had the most infectious laugh, she was a woman who knew who she was and wasn’t ever willing to settle for less than what she deserved.

She once told me a funny story of how she first met my sister in law. She saw my brother at a crowded bar and enthusiastically crossed the room to hug him hello…it’d been a long time since she’d seen him…which inspired his girlfriend (and future wife) to step in and introduce herself…and Joy just bubbled as she told it, “Oh, no, no, it’s not at all what you think…I’m his cousin!” She said they all had such a good laugh about it.

And when my life exploded, I was living with my parents and Joy reached out to ask me out for a dog brunch date. We caught up, had some burgers and laughs. Her dog, Mister, vibed right away with my little guy Watson as they shared a protein bowl under the table and it was like no time had passed. I knew her, she knew me…inherently.

We had so much fun, we scheduled another sesh for the following week: a doggy fire pit and charcuterie night in her backyard. And we ended up trading stories about toxic people and horrible dates while Mister and Watson shared our smoked meats and cheeses. We made our way to the bottom of a bottle of wine, an entire 90s hip hop playlist, and we laughed like old friends all night in the backyard until we realized it was 3am.

Our moms both razzed us about being “party girls” after that, but we promised each other we’d be each other’s wing woman in all our future nights out on the town, both single and fatigued by the slim pickins on dating apps.

A few weeks later, I was in Cabo on a much needed all-inclusive retreat from the real world with my friends. Joy had just left for her bucket list trip to Ireland, we had plans to meet up when we were both back in town.

And I’m having chilaquiles and fresh guava beet juice at breakfast before heading to the airport and my mom calls me.

Joy put Mister in an upscale boarding facility and he’s not happy and he basically got kicked out. She’s thinking of flying home from Ireland.

No no, I got you Joy.

Mom, tell her I got her.

Watson would be thrilled, Mister would be happy, me and the doggos will chill and eat charcuterie, and it would be a nice extended vacation from my life upstairs at my parents house, as much for them as for me.

And so I brought my Cabo bag straight from the airport to Joy’s house for the week. She sent me pictures from all her Ireland adventures and was just so grateful…but staying in her beautiful home was as much a gift for me and Watson as it was for her and Mister.

She came back from Ireland with an engraved Jameson flask for me. I left her a fridge full of good cheeses and a huge bag of Costco Chicken Jerky for Mister.

It was maybe a week later, she was doing yoga and her left leg gave out. She went to urgent care, they sent her straight to the emergency room. I got a text from my mom that they weren’t letting her leave the hospital, lots of tests.

And then another text a day later…from Joy…tumor, glioblastoma, brain cancer, prognosis 22 months.

Fuck.

No, I won’t believe it. You’re gonna beat this, cuz, you’re a badass…

Chemo, radiation, steroids…

We took her out to dinner one night and she slowly lifted up her fedora as tears rolled down her face, “My hair is falling out”.

We invited her over for breakfast a few weeks later, “I went and paid for my burial plot yesterday.”

She held on, kept working, kept fighting, spoiled herself, bought a new car, spent a week at a resort by the bay, showed up at one of my storytelling events…and something in me believed if anyone can beat this, it’s fuckin Joy.

Then Mister passed away, and I wondered if it broke his heart watching her fight so hard.

In the spring, it’d been 24 months and the doctors said she was good to travel, this was the time, and she planned a trip to London and Paris with her mom.

Maybe she was finally knocking it down, I hoped. I loved every single travel photo on the socials…nobody deserves it more, fuckin’ live this life to the fullest, cuz!!!

And then in the summer she went to Yosemite with her family. And made beautiful memories with her mom and brother and sister in law and niece and nephew.

Then the seizures started.

The tumor was growing more aggressively.

She threw a garden party in her backyard, all her friends organized and catered it. It was absolutely beautiful, with earl grey cookies and flowers to put in your hair. Like this is how and where she wanted to be remembered.

She sat outside on the back patio under an umbrella, she’d had a ramp installed to get down to her beloved backyard, but was too fearful to use it after a bad fall a few weeks prior. This was the first time she’d been in the yard in months. She’d lost all use of her left side…my fellow lefty in the family, my beautiful, capable, badass cousin Joy.

And a few weeks ago, she was back in the hospital and told the doctors to give it to her straight, because she doesn’t want any sugar on it…and they told her 3-4 weeks.

Stop treatment.

Start hospice.

3-4 weeks.

29 months.

The bed was set up in her guest room facing the window out to the backyard and a bird feeder in her line of sight. She has pads on both sides of the bed for seizures.

She called it her coffin.

The first time I visited, we brought her chicken kabobs and hummus. I cried the whole drive there. I asked her how she was doing…and she cried. Her niece had just left that morning, they’d had a sleepover and ordered IHOP pancakes. She told her niece to ask her anything she wanted to know…her niece said, “Just don’t say the ‘D’ word.”

And then through tears she switched gears and mentioned how much she’s been craving sushi and this horrible date she went on one time where the guy ordered milk. “What kind of sicko orders milk with sushi? That was a one and done, I didn’t need to know anything else about him. Hard pass.”

And we laughed and I told her I’d bring her some sushi, no milk.

I asked her what she believes happens to us “after this”…and she said she’d been working with a Buddhist chaplain and she’s always felt grounded and connected to nature, that’s where her heart has always lived, and she’s been telling everyone whenever they see a hummingbird, that’s gonna be her.

A hummingbird is sacred in many cultures, always symbolizing good luck, vitality, beauty, and JOY.

We’d brought her some crystals for ascension, healing, and peace. Candles for miracles and calm. Jen gave her some amazing patchouli essential oils we got in Sedona to rub on her wrists, because there’s hardly a better gift than a good smell.

And birds fluttered in and out of the feeder in the window.

And tears ran down my face the entire drive home.

The next time I went to visit, I brought her two milkshakes because I couldn’t decide between mint chip and chocolate banana. She drank them both without one ounce of shame or regret.

We talked books and she said “You’re never alone when you have a book in your hands.” I asked what she was reading: Ten Birds That Changed the World. She just started the chapter on Darwin’s finch and asked if I wanted to borrow it. I said, “You have to finish it first, then I’ll grab it from ya.”

I wanted to buy more time. I wanted to bring her favorite whitefish sushi.

I took a picture of the beautiful sunset from my rear view mirror on the drive home…I’d hugged her goodbye not realizing it’d be the last time.

My beautiful, badass cousin Joy lost her fight this morning at 10am.

The way I heard it, her brother walked in the door, said hi and, as he grabbed her hand, she took her last breath…as though she was waiting for him. As though he was the last piece she needed to finally let go.

The Buddha is quoted as saying, “We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, JOY follows like a shadow that never leaves.”

My mind is a mess today, there is no analysis, there is no logic, there is no making sense.

I am quieting my mind and leaning instead on my heart. She will never leave my heart. My heart hurts. I know this hurt is a gift though, a reminder of the human experience…feeling the weight of her loss acknowledges the foundational impact she had on my life. In health, and even in sickness, her Joyness taught me about Jaimeness. Now I can talk to her anytime I want and pay attention to the signs. She can still inspire me, make me laugh, she can still recommend great books putting them into my path.

Faith tells me she is reunited with Mister and her dad. She is truly free…from suffering, from pain, from her coffin bed and stupid timeframes. She can be everywhere, do anything, even transform into a hummingbird, which gives me so much peace. I was already looking for her in the flowers tonight as the sun set.