there’s something about mary

I was looking through Facebook when I read a post from my dear friend Mary Curtis that stopped me dead in my tracks.

She was recently diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic and liver cancer. Given the advanced progression of the disease, she and her family decided to forego treatment and to instead concentrate on living a beautiful life until the very end. 

Mary encompasses the best of us, all rolled up into one generous, kind, and ridiculously funny package. Simply put, I adore her.

So this, my sweet friend, is for you. I love you more than you’ll ever know.

Dear Mary:

This is now my fourth attempt at writing this letter. Each of the previous times, I’ve gotten so wrapped up with emotion that I literally couldn’t see through the tears.

So I did what I often do when facing an outcome I don’t like: I cried, and I felt sorry for you, and then I felt sorry for me, and then I felt sorry for us, and then I prayed. When I finished, I took a deep breath, and I started again.

I love words. I always have; you know this about me. Unfortunately, they now seem inadequate, like fragile little boats trying to navigate an ocean in distress. Learning about your diagnosis has shaken me; even so, my heart is full of gratitude for the extraordinary gift of your friendship.

I knew very little about anything when I became the director of public relations at the hospital in Cambridge. I was just 24 years old, and in charge of a department I knew nothing about in a field that seemed frenetic and overwhelming at times.

And then one day a few weeks in, I was called to the emergency department for a meeting, and I met an amazing group of nurses, each one as kind and caring as the next. What a blessing it was for me to be in the presence of you girls. There was so much going on at the time, I didn’t even know where to stand to ensure I was out of everyone’s way, but then you invited me to come behind the desk and sit next to you. That small act of grace changed everything, and for that I’ll be forever grateful.

That moment, seemingly so small at the time, set the tone for every success that came my way. Every award I won, every speech I was asked to give, every committee and board I was asked to chair, came as a result of that single gesture of kindness.

Why? Because you showed me the beauty in vulnerability and the strength in authenticity.

There are so many threads of you woven into the fabric of who I am that it’s nearly impossible for me to separate the person I am today from the influence you’ve had on me. You’ve not just been a friend, you’ve been a guiding star and a wellspring of inspiration.

You’ve always celebrated the triumphs of others with such genuine joy, as if they were your victories. You believe in others, Mary, even when they doubt themselves. What a wonderful gift that’s been to so very many. 

And during the darker times when the world felt too heavy, you were always there for me.

My father’s death from cancer was my first real loss as an adult. I’ll never forget that when I came back to work following his burial, you called me down to the emergency department, took me into an exam room, and hugged me while I sobbed. You didn’t say a word, except that you loved me and that you’d keep praying for me. 

And you did. 

Your empathy and ability to truly listen and offer solace have been a lifeline on countless occasions. You’ve a rare and beautiful gift for making people feel seen and understood, and I’ve been the fortunate recipient of that gift time and time again. 

I’ve learned the importance of resilience by watching you navigate your own challenges with grace and love. Your innate ability to connect with others has inspired me to be more empathetic and understanding. You’ve always found joy in the simple things, and your ability to see the good in every situation has made me want to do and be better, in every way, every single day.

These aren't just abstract concepts, Mary. They’re integral parts of me, shaped and nurtured over the years by our friendship.

Your legacy isn’t just in the memories we share, but in the profound impact you’ve had on so many lives, mine most certainly included.

I promise you, my dear friend, that I’ll carry your influence forward. I’ll strive to embody the qualities you so effortlessly exude: your kindness, your strength, your unwavering spirit. I’ll share your stories, your wisdom, and the lessons you’ve taught me. I’ll champion the values you hold dear and work to make the world a little brighter because you were in it.

Most importantly, though, is that you stand on the edge of glory, knowing the King and the promise that awaits. Your destination beyond this Earth is one of unimaginable joy because you’ll be in the presence of our Savior. 

Your strength and grace during this time are truly inspiring, a testament to the love of Christ that dwells within you. Always remember you’re surrounded by love, even as you prepare for your ultimate homecoming.

Until that glorious day when we embrace again, I’ll smile knowing you’re resting in His perfect peace. Your journey ahead is filled with light and everlasting joy, and while we’ll all miss you dearly, we’ll rejoice in the victory that’s yours in Jesus. May you feel His loving arms around you now and always.

I love you, sweet friend.