Today I woke up to a world with one less friend… How is that possible? I am devastated. I can’t believe it, I just can’t. She’s so young, beautiful, full of life.

I’ve been working on my business, generating content, talking to my audience, engaging with people and for a very long time, I haven’t been “me”. I don’t even remember when was the last time I’ve posted something in my personal page or interacted with people there. Yesterday evening my husband shared one of our precious moments together in our back porch listening to the rain and Adriana Calcanhoto https://open.spotify.com/track/4XXaIb6V1u0X5Ao2xzeotr . So this morning I decided to log into my personal account and take a look… sent love to lots of people, engaged in some comments and kept scrolling until I saw it.

This is the second time that Facebook tells me that someone I truly care about is no long among us. I am not going to get into how unfair and sad this is. The first time was my grandmother – which seemed to be a racing among my cousins as there was some kind of prize to the first place. That is how I learned about her death. unbelievable. unforgettable. unforgivable. Thank God I was able to release all that pain already.

I’ve been thinking about Stacie for some time and meant to contact her. I felt like she had disappeared and I missed her. I remembered sending her a voice message after watching a movie where the antagonist looked just like her.

“Hard to believe it’s just been one year since I lost my dear friend.” said the post from a common friend Christine Partch.

I used to volunteer at Gilda’s Club Nashville, conceiving and delivering workshops for people impacted by Cancer based on my survival journey. Their mail letter informed me about the Creative Expressive Writing at VICC – https://news.vumc.org/2015/09/03/new-creative-writing-course-geared-for-cancer-community/ sponsored by Vanderbilt. Aware of English being my second language, I accepted their suggestion to use those moments as some kind of therapy, journaling or whatever I want to reflect on. That’s were I met Stacie, sometime between 2015 and 2016 at the Curb in those wonderful classes facilitated by Anna Silverstein.

The stories we heard from each person that wanted to share whatever the prompt inspired them to write about were so beautiful, profound and heart felt. It was impossible not to fall in love with one another, know their true self and finally understand the concept of Soul Mate. We not only spoke the same language but also shared the same pain. Trying to get back to “normal life” after a life sentencing diagnosis and experience…

Stacie was always very elegant in her jeans, t-shirt, comfortable shoes, scarfs on winter, a cross body bag, her iPhone and the keyboard where she would type her way out. Each and every time she would share what she wrote, I used to be amazed. How in 20 min writing someone can come up with that!? I used to think. But she did, and she wasn’t the only one. Getting back into my writing from those times, except for the poor English, grammar, syntax, concordance, etc the depth and the ideas were inspiring.

We’ve shared many workshops together and she was very supportive of my writing. So many times I remember her telling me to focus on the writing idea and forget everything else. I used to feel less because I was a foreigner, but they were all so wonderful to me. It was all in my head, I guess, but it hasn’t stopped me.

After being in so many workshops I decided to walk away for a bit. Without communicating to one another, it seemed like we all shared the same thoughts. Spring 2019 I decided to get back partially and met a whole new group of people. They were also wonderful and lovely, but not the original group, but I decided to stay as I realized how much I missed. They were working on an Anthology and I proudly submitted a few pieces of my writing work. Even though the facilitator of the class always changes after a couple of seasons, it is a blessing to know each one of them and to see how in the world is possible to always have wonderful people leading those amazing classes. Lina was the one that time, she was moving to Texas and Vandy organized a reception where each person could ready their piece.

That was the last time I saw Stacie. May 2019, just a few days before her birthday. She wasn’t in the class, but published the incredible memoir of her pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela – which I remember her reading the raw piece as she came back from the trip and sharing with us in class, back in 2016/17. The original piece was called: “When I die, call Kevin”, to me, it was love at first sight. I am not sure how many editions and when she decided to change the title, but it has been perfect from the first version as I walked with her in her words.

I was so happy to see her again, it brought back memories of a happy time, when I first discovered my passion for writing, our group, the support, the fun, the meals we shared, the unconditional love and support to one another. It was the first time I saw her with hair and I couldn’t help myself but to comment how beautiful she was also with it. She smiled and touching it at the shoulders length mentioned how much and fast it’s growing again… She read her piece and I went back to Spain with her once again, and to the classes at the West End Avenue over breakfast, in front of the Parthenon, where she first shared her treasure with us.

I left the bathroom this morning and couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t believe it has been a whole year she is no longer in this dimension. I missed her puppies posts, her birthday donations posts on her birthday, her smile, spontaneity, authenticity, her angelic way of being herself.

It is not natural to see someone that young leaving. I still can’t believe it.

I found her everywhere as I was looking for comfort throughout the day and had to pay an homage to her. I am so grateful we’ve met, shared so much during our human experience. I can’t describe my state of gratitude for her legacy and how much she’s been, done and inspired us. I also stole a piece from her blog, written by her loved ones, which I second to the letter…

“Although she is gone, she is forever in our hearts.  She touched so many lives during her short time on earth.  Stacie was grateful for every life experience and viewed everything as a new adventure.  As she laid knowing the end was near, she said,

“I’m excited to see what’s on the other side.”  

Stacie Chevrier

May we all take a piece of Stacie’s grace, wisdom, optimism and enlightenment with us every day on our journey through life.  RIP Stacie. Forever Young.  Forever Beautiful.  We love you so much!

I told my husband about it all, back at the swing in our porch this morning and mentioned that voice message I left her, when I realized I’ve never checked it back, and then I did…

“Thank you Sheyla! So sweet to hear your voice.:)

Don’t let it kill you, before you die

Stacie Chevrier

How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

– A. A. Milne – Life Lessons From Winnie-the-Pooh

Years back, I’ve written something which was actually published (get your copy here), this piece shows my mind processing the nostalgia of watching mom going through dementia.

Jesus came to get her, it was harder during the isolation times… the cause was none related to the virus, but, the consequences were devastating… depriving us of her presence, a proper funeral or even a basic visitation. Everything was online and just for a few minutes, streamed live (who would ever imagine we would experience times like this?)

I have updated that piece later, summarized some parts and decided to finish it, as my closure and associated with her beautiful picture on mother’s day, when my husband finished a gorgeous meditation space for her at her house in Connecticut. The new piece was once again published, now by the VICC, in another anthology. So far, my biggest pride as a writer – the most touching and introspective piece I’ve ever created.

Did she know (updated version)

Did she know – Updated Version – Anthology Creative Expressive Writting

Did she know it would the last time she went grocery shopping and bought exactly the same things from the previous trip?

Did she know it was the last time she would do her evening routine prior to go to sleep? Pre-set the table for breakfast, set the thirteen pills in a Dixie cup covered by a couple of Kleenex? Squeezed Olay cream at the tip of her fingers and carefully scrubbed her miraculously radiant 96 year-old face?

Did she know it was the last time she would peel 5 lb. of apples and prepare her own applesauce? That would be the last time she would turn the stove on, boil water and prepare her own oatmeal? Did she know it would be the last time she was capable of preparing her own cup of coffee? Did she know it was the last time she would wash her few and very same dishes?

Did she know it was the last time she would choose which clothe to wear, a pair of earrings to match the sweat shirt, the black sweat pants and the white pair of sneakers? Did she know it would be the last time she was capable of putting make up on and be excited to go out to the Home Town Buffet at the top of the hill? Did she know it was the last time she would wrap a slice of pizza she couldn’t eat and stuck it into her pocket book?

Did she know it would be the last time she would do laundry? Carry her reinforced USO jeans bag, used as hamper and carry it to the basement? Did she know it would be the last time she would sit in her chair and watch TV waiting for the dryer cycle to end, so that she could fold her things, put into a basket and crawl the steps back upstairs?

Did she know it was the last time she would tell the yard worker to trim the bushes; to not touch the red tree; to blow the autumn leaves, to shovel the driveway? Did she know it was the last time she opened the front door to get the mail?

Did she know she would never get back to that pair of stockings that she had worn just once and carefully folded in her drawer, so that she could wear once again before washing of throwing them out? Did she know that beautiful black lace set she bought from a magazine, perhaps to impress her husband, for a romantic evening or even to feel beautiful, would never be worn?

Did she know that blue cut of yard, matching the flowery pillow case she cut in pieces would never become whatever she dreamed in making?

How many unfulfilled dreams, projects started, ideas not initiated? How many letters not sent, or written? Clothes, jewelry and shoes never worn, waiting for a special occasion? How many days not lived, waiting for someone to show up, to visit, or for some companion? How many phone calls not placed waiting for the other side to apologize or just initiate it? How much money not spent doing something she wanted; buying something she didn’t need but that would be nice to have it? How many places not visited and things not done?

Did she know she would lose it? That she would have no idea of who she was, which season, which month, or even which year it was? Did she know she wouldn’t be able to know who the president was or even her own name? Did she know the moments lived in the last 75+ years would be just erased?

Did she know she wouldn’t be able to make a decision for herself, or remember anything else other than her beloved mom and a bit of her childhood?

Did she know that we wouldn’t be able to take care of her, even though we wanted? Did she know we would leave her somewhere, trying to convince ourselves it was best for her? Did she know we would promise to visit her often, but couldn’t, not because of time or willingness, but because we needed to rebuild our broken hearts and soul from the last visit? Did she know an in-law would love her this much?

I prayed that when it was finally her time to leave us physically, for God to be merciful and use the sleep machine as her transportation, perhaps during a sweet dream, where she is walking in a beautiful place, that He comes, smiles at her, takes her hand and side-by-side helps her cross the bridge…

For us that stay, I hope we are able to comprehend the power of here and now… that there is no special occasion to do something, to wear something, to create something, but at the very present, each day, each moment. That it might just be that we have already done many “lasts” in our journey…

Today she would have been 98. A truly privilege to make it half way after 97… I miss her, talking to her, hearing her, listening to her laugh… I am grateful for all the time we had together, the conversations (even the non sense), the meals, her appreciation, our prayers, our moments contemplating…

She is and will remain forever in my memories, as part of me, of what to be, to become, how to get old, getting lighter each day, laughing of things, taking them less serious and adventuring myself into something new, each time I feel like it, no matter what others may think or try to prevent me to…

Did she know that morning after gym it would be the last time I would see her? Did she know it would be her last video when she stared at the camera and clearly said: “Gary, I adore you!”?

Sheyla Zito

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:10

I am the first sunlight in the horizon

I am the breeze that touches a rose’s petal

I am the ocean waves not sure if should go or come back

I am the autumn leaves wandering after an accomplished mission

I am the mystery life in other planets

I am an eagle hatching, the first heart bit in a mother’s womb

I am the silence of the grief

I am the wings of a hummingbird and the honey that makes it still

I am the feeling at the mountain peak

I am the infinity of the galaxies

I am the warmth of a sun kiss

I am the blossom of an early Spring

I am the rain, washing it all out

I am the sunset, bringing closure

I am the last breath of a faithful soul

I am the caterpillar’s hardest fight and its death

I am the awakening of a blue butterfly

I am as light as a feather descending, as strong as the thunder, as pure as a baby smile, as fragile as a dandelion in the wind, as delicate as an eyelash.

I am it all and I am nothing.

I am fire that burns, a bright star, a snowflake, a drop of salt water in the ocean.

I am an instrument, a small being, made human, ready to serve and to be, in its full potential.

I am the bridge that connects,

I am daughter of God.

Sheyla Zito, Monday Morning, 14SEP20 – Grandma’s birthday