I miss you, ConMom

This week, the world lost an amazing woman. What started out as a beautiful afternoon bike ride led to Connie Nagle's untimely, tragic passing in a very fluke accident. Accidents. There are no warning signs for accidents. There is no rhyme or reason for them. Things just happen. No matter how full you live your life, no matter how many times you've been reminded to live each moment to the utmost and to appreciate those you love, no matter what sadness you've been through before, nothing can prepare you for the loss of a loved one. The notion that someone we hold dear is gone forever is an incredibly difficult, almost impossible, concept to grasp. To be honest, I'm not sure that we're meant to.

I first met Connie when I was 13. She was the mother of my best friend. I called her my second mother, or 'ConMom.' I practically lived at her house throughout of my teenage years and quickly became a regular at all extended family functions. Connie was the person I called when I needed a mother's advice, but didn't want to ask my own mother. She had a wonderful warmth and openness about her. I could talk to her about anything. She also happened to be one of the smartest people I've ever met. An expert on women's health, Connie worked in the medical field her whole life, always there to reassure and support me any moment I (a self-proclaimed hypochondriac) diagnosed myself with cancer, or when I actually went through a very real medical scare in Seattle. She was there across the country with me, holding my hand. Connie also managed to be a wise, loving mentor while never losing her childlike, often cheeky, playfulness. Filled with life and laughter, she could make anyone smile. I admired her very much. So did many. And, now, after one leisurely afternoon bike ride, she's gone.

Life's just not fair sometimes. Even though I've heard the phrase a million times, it still just doesn't seem like a good enough explanation. Then again, nothing will.

Connie, you'll be sorely missed.