I noticed they were careful not to use the word “metastasized.” It’s a horrible scary word. The doctor interviewed for the story said her cancer is treatable. NPR tiptoed around all of this.

The article linked to above is from Slate.com and offers more straightforward information. Many of you will recognize Shauna in this story. The drugs, the treatment, the hopes we all had for her full recovery. I can only hope that the Edwards family will have a better outcome than Shauna’s.

Her mom told stories from the beginning of her life, using the theme that Shauna was always ahead of her time. At 9 months, she decided to walk and that was that. At 2 and a half, she wanted pretty panties like her older sister, Alana, but mom told her she would have to be potty trained first. So Shauna potty trained herself so she could have pretty panties too. At 3 she was speaking in paragraphs, while most children were trying to string sentences together. We could have done without Shauna being ahead of her time when she died from cancer.

Gamemaster Dan told of their gaming days and how Shauna would let him know that he was taking too long setting things up, “It’s 9PM and I haven’t killed anything yet!”

Pamela talked about a conversation she and Shauna had during which Pamela told her to come back and let her know everything was okay. The night Shauna died, Pamela’s large St. Nicholas, which has never fallen over before, was tipped over making Pamela believe that Shauna had kept her promise.

Debbi talked about being Shauna’s “butt buddy” in Japan and how in her last days, Shauna had still been able to laugh. They made up a list of Letterman like Top 10 things she would say when she got to heaven. #1 on the list was, “What? You mean I got here before Don Cherry?” (Hockey reference.)

Alana, Ron, Michael, Tricia, Vicki, Ashley, Aunt Peggy and a few others whose names I either do not know or have forgotten also spoke. (My apologies.) Craig said the thing he would miss the most was her good parking karma and her voice.

All too soon, it was over and the piper marched down the aisle playing “Amazing Grace.” It was deeply emotional.

The answer to Shauna’s question about how many people would be at her service is, “around 100+.”

Maybe someone who went to the reception can let me know how it was so I can post something here. I didn’t go because it was more than I wanted to take in at the time.

You asked me several times how many people I thought would be at your service and I always replied, “I don’t know.” There were so many pockets of your life that I didn’t know much of. The soccer parents, customers who came to know and love you, friends from a lifetime of living in Silicon Valley, hockey (well, okay I did know about that pocket of your life because that’s how I met you), paramedics you went to school with and worked with, volunteer firefighting; the list gets amazingly long. Just today I had email from a lady at the NCIS Fan Fest.

The thing that makes me most somber right now is thinking of your body at the Neptune Society waiting to be taken care of. I know it’s morbid. I hate to think of you there alone. It’s what’s came to mind today and I know you understand what may be the underlying curiousity of what happens “next.” Maybe mixed with a need to help see you through it all; but I know Ron and his staff are doing right by you.

In your final days I began to understand the reason for some of the cultural rituals that accompany death. For instance, visiting the graveyard. Until I was faced with the reality of not being able to talk to you every day, I didn’t understand why someone would do that. Now I do. I will have to find a place where I can go and talk to you. While I know Craig would find it amusing for me to knock on the door and tell him I needed to talk to you; I think standing in front of the closet looking at your urn on the top shelf isn’t exactly what I need.

And I understand shiva. Although it is a Jewish tradition and is for the 7 days after someone has died, I understand the great need to mourn in this fashion. I think what we did in the days after you lost consciousness was a form of shiva, or vigil. I’m grateful to have had that opportunity.

Something I am the most grateful for is the absolute luxury of being able to say “good-bye” to each other. The times we sat and held hands and cried as we told each other the things we needed to say. Not everyone gets that chance and I am thankful to have had that with you. I didn’t want to say “good-bye” but I knew I had to, and so did you.

I don’t regret one moment of our time together, I would do it all over again from start to finish without hesitation. Well, I do have one regret; that we didn’t get to know each other earlier.

I miss you.

Love,
SEA

Donations in Shauna’s name can be made to the Susan B. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation.

There will be a “pot-luck” reception after the service at Neptune Society, located at 798 S. 2nd St. in San Jose, CA.