I hardly knew it when I met her first, but Tamara Gignac would become an inspiration to me on how to live. We met at a wedding of a mutual friend a couple of years ago.
I hardly knew it when I met her first, but Tamara Gignac would become an inspiration to me on how to live.
We met at a wedding of a mutual friend a couple of years ago. Tamara had a girl and a boy, the same ages as my two children, and we both worked as journalists, so we shared that in common. As is the case with so many acquaintances you barely see or know, we became Facebook friends, a category of friendship unto its own (what other friends do you have that you sometimes don't even recognize or acknowledge when out in public?)
But unlike some of those other dubious Facebook friends, I found myself feeling very lucky to have gotten to know Tamara, as she opens my mind and heart each time I see her make a post. Selfies usually drive me crazy as people seek to be validated and liked on the basis of their good looks and pouty faces.
But with Tamara, I cheer every time I see her post a picture of herself or ones with her children and husband, because every part of her speaks of happiness in that moment, even when it's from a hospital bed, surrounded by the signs of illness.
This is because at the age of 40, Tamara found out she was terminally ill with Stage IV colon cancer. Just last month, she started her 15th round of chemotherapy, to fight for extra time, for the extra moments that those of us who have not come face to face with our own mortality take for granted - for little gifts like seeing her son go to his first day of Kindergarten.
“It's a moment I dream about all the time. In my imagination, Finn is wearing a pirate backpack. The bell rings and he happily trots off to his new classroom. He doesn't look back to wave goodbye . . . which is perfectly OK. Finn is the sort of boy who embraces every new adventure without a drop of trepidation. But I intend to be there to see it. And Finn will remember that Mommy was there,&” she wrote.
Every so often, something or someone will come along that reminds me of how petty the things I get worked up about can be. It seems to be easier to open the microwave door and see the exploded contents inside and burst out, “What the heck, who doesn't know how to cook macaroni and cheese?!&” than to think “Wow, aren't I glad I have a husband who helps me out with cooking and cleaning?&”
But then I see Tamara's picture of a basket of brightly coloured Easter eggs, or her son splashing in a puddle, and I am reminded to take joy in the simple things.
So I'm making an attempt from here on in to live out Tamara's example. I'm making an attempt to count my blessings and to appreciate the wonderful people in my life instead of complaining about the petty things that really don't matter.
The most precious moments are fleeting for all of us, who must all confront that great unknown at some time. We can choose to squander those moments or we can choose to feel them deeply, to turn your face up to feel the kiss of the sun, to brush your cheek against the sweet softness of your child's, to hold your partner's hand and feel the strength in the bond that beats between, to do as Tamara says and “to love fiercely, live honestly and to never let go.&”
