a pause for Casey

A client of mine died two days ago, in the middle of a battle with leukemia that we all thought was going to last much longer, a battle we thought she might even win. She was 19, and we had been working together for three-and-a-half years. We had a session on Monday, in my chatroom, since she was in the hospital, secluded for weeks in her room while they lowered her immune system in preparation for a bone marrow transplant from her brother. She was having a relatively good day on Monday, though she was deeply tired of being so weak. On Tuesday afternoon, an infection raged through her and she was gone within hours.

Her family asked me to write the obituary, as they were in such pain and disorienting grief that no one could stay focused long enough to do it. Never again do I want such an honor. Laura, who knows Casey and her family well, has guided them by the arm through every step of the memorial service planning. They are blind with grief.

It is not the usual thing to have one's therapist speak at one's memorial service, but they have asked me to do the main eulogy as well, with full disclosure that I was her therapist. Writing it has been delicate, sad work. I want to bring comfort to Casey's friends and family, to protect her privacy forever, and still speak truth about all she had to bear.

In the meantime, a half-written blog entry sits somewhere in cyberspace. It will need to wait. I am birthing a story about a lovely, hard life and an inexplicable, early death.