A beautiful girl, whom I’ve known since she and our daughter became best friends at age ten; a yogini who taught kick-ass vinyasa yoga from Georgia to Wyoming and everywhere she could in between — we love you and are always with you in Spirit — dear Nancy. 

She found out she has had Lyme disease just 6 months ago, after visiting us. We said, “nancy, you have Lyme, you’re not crazy!” Because, like her, our own daughter had just recently been diagnosed with this debilitating, mentally-physically-spiritually crushing disease that, if undetected longterm, as was both Nancy’s and our daughter’s case — over fifteen years undetected! — the effects are horrifying. 

Our daughter’s marriage fell apart, the stress of her illness proving too much for her ill-chosen partner (I’m trying to be kind here, folks). But Nancy did not, for some reason, see any way out of the horrors of her disease, even though she was, for the past 6 months at least, under a doctor’s care and was well on her way to recovery. But Lyme is a slow fix, and some say you never fully recover when the Lyme bacteria called spirochetes, burrow themselves into the body’s tissues, especially the brain. 

Last week Nancy sadly chose to end her life,  ending her long and painful struggle. Perhaps there were other circumstances leading to her so-final decision, but Lyme disease alone, especially the longterm-undetected chronic stage, has been known to affect people  (3 by me personally, specifically) so grievously that suicide was the “only choice” to those who could no longer bear the mental anguish. Things were looking up for Nancy, or so we all thought. 

Here I wish to share how a wonder-filled little-girl Nancy was, how bright and creative, intelligent and pretty as can be, a brilliant red head, a comical genius, as mischievous and alluring as our little girl. She was our daughter, too, she was our friend, she was a fellow traveler on the road of life’s adventures. I will not remember her as the 31-year-old despairing person who couldn’t believe in the miracle of healing, as we do. As she did too, before this disease damaged her so grievously. Our slowly-recovering daughter believes she’ll have a good recovery: nancy could have had one also. 

So — to all the Nancys in the world — please believe in the magical power of Love, please keep hoping, please never give up!!
I suppose I should be happy for Nanc, that she’s no longer in pain. Maybe I’ll honestly feel that some day in the future. But right now I’m missing her too much to feel aupportive of her decision, because selfishly I’m missing her not being around to share a sun salute, a laugh, a look into a child’s wonder-filled eyes, just like hers were once.

You are loved and cherished, Nancy, always. 

In Light, your pal teZa aka LordFleA