Loss is Becoming a Familiar Sensation
Last night I learned that my dear childhood friend, Kambria Wesch Doherty, lost her two and a half-year battle with Neuroendcorine Carcinoma - an extremely rare and aggressive cancer that moved quickly throughout her body and brain. Upon her initial diagnosis, Kambria was given three months to live. She beat those odds considerably and held out for 2 plus years.
I grew up in a small California town. The friends I met in kindergarten were the friends I graduated high school with. Kambria and I spent our childhoods together. We had sleep overs. Her dad coached the first basketball team we ever played on. We went to junior high dances together. We took college entrance exams together. And off and on, we met for coffee in later years to discuss college and marriage and then had our babies at the same time. As Shakespeare says, Kambria is the "calendar of my nativity". We've walked this life together.
She has many friends like me. Kambria gave herself whole-heartedly to all. She was a beacon of light and positivity, not just in her childhood, but as a mother, a wife, a teacher and throughout her battle with cancer. But today, we're grieving. We are gutted. We are torn apart. Tomorrow will be better, but today, we're silent.
I grew up in a small California town. The friends I met in kindergarten were the friends I graduated high school with. Kambria and I spent our childhoods together. We had sleep overs. Her dad coached the first basketball team we ever played on. We went to junior high dances together. We took college entrance exams together. And off and on, we met for coffee in later years to discuss college and marriage and then had our babies at the same time. As Shakespeare says, Kambria is the "calendar of my nativity". We've walked this life together.
She has many friends like me. Kambria gave herself whole-heartedly to all. She was a beacon of light and positivity, not just in her childhood, but as a mother, a wife, a teacher and throughout her battle with cancer. But today, we're grieving. We are gutted. We are torn apart. Tomorrow will be better, but today, we're silent.
"Losing love is like a window in your heart.
Everybody sees you're blown apart.
Everybody sees the wind blow."
-Paul Simon
And here we are together as kids:
Kambria leaves behind three young children and a devoted husband. Please consider donating to her fund. Cancer is not cheap. Death is not cheap. Let's give this gorgeous family some breathing room to grieve. Please visit her donation site HERE.