Merry Christmas All! I know it won't surprise any of you to know I've been thinking about Erin alot lately. It's funny what the holidays will do to you. I've been thinking about how, since Thanksgiving, I've been trying to write this blog. Just like I was trying to find the right time to send Erin her CD after some guy broke her heart (it's still here), and wanted to call her, but never wanted her to feel like she had to talk, if she didn't have the energy, or was having a bad day and just wanted to lay around alone for a bit. It's this flooding of memories and all I wanted to do and didn't which prodded me to finally sit down and write about her.

For all of you who never got the opportunity to meet or know Erin, what a loss! I first "met" Erin in 1992 on a Name That Tune bullitan board. A young woman everyone called "Senator" who LOVED Don Henley. I graduated from high school in 1993 and, as a present, was given a week in California with Erin. I remember being unable to take my eyes off Erin. She had this way about her that just drew people to her. She was so happy and smiling and full of life. Erin said she had planned a tour of her favorite places to eat in California, beginning by leaving the airport and heading to dinner with her friend, Maralynn. I have never enjoyed an entire week more. We did everything, including a baseball game (which turned into going back the next day for game two), Stanford, Fisherman's Wharf, Disneyland, Cheesecake Factory in Marina Del Ray, Carmel, Fourth of July at a friend's house and fireworks over the ocean viewed from the end of a cul-de-sac, UCLA, Rodeo Drive (at 2am, so we wouldn't spend money! :) ), and ending at the Falafel Hut in Campbell. That trip she also introduced me to raw silk shirts for hot summer days, alfalfa sprouts and avocado on sandwiches, and espardrilles. We met people and Erin charmed people everywhere we stopped. The only thing that kept me from being sad when I left was knowing I'd see her in Boston the following weekend!

Erin and I lost touch when I went to college. Then one day, our of the blue, I got a postcard from her as she was...I think it was backpacking around Europe, or in Canada, or something. I wondered if the trip meant her mother, whom had breast cancer when I first met Erin, had passed. I finally got the nerve up to ask her July of 2000, while we were in New Orleans. I heard Erin was living in New York right before she was leaving. We tried to make plans to meet up in the city, but it fell through. We did, however, get a bit better about staying in touch. We would talk on Instant Message every time we were on at the same time and occasionally send catching-up emails.

We met up again in New Orleans in July of 2000. We had a wonderful time with our friends from Name That Tune! We were staying at a hotel on Bourbon Street, and were laying around talking about our lives and such before we had to get up and get ready for our "night on the town". Neil called and Erin answered it, chatted with him a bit, then handed the phone off to me as we both were getting ready to head down to the Cat's Meow. Erin got up on stage alone and sang "Stay" by Lisa Loeb. It was wonderful! (I have pictures, if you can tell that the dot on stage is Erin! :) )

In one of her emails, Erin informed us her father was diagnosed with cancer and it wasn't a long-term prognosis. After her father passed, Erin announced her intent to travel to every ballpark in the U.S. to raise money for The Jimmy Fund and to honor her father's memory. I was so excited for her! How fun! Erin and I again tried to meet up, but she was north when I was south and vica versa. I enjoyed reading about her journeys across the U.S. and could just picture Erin in every situation she encountered - the people she met, the situations she was in...I laughed and smiled, knowing how in just a few short minutes, Erin would make all those people fall in love with her. what better spokesperson could cancer and cancer research have, than this woman whose smile lit up a room and made you feel like she was family. I just knew ever person she met would end up sending money or supporting her cause.

Everyone talks about how different America has been since September 11, 2001. There is a small (comparatively to the population of America) core of people for whom life after September 11th is so changed, that the life before it hardly seems like it belonged to the same person. While not due directly to that incident, I feel as though from that day on, my life has done a complete 180. The month or so following September 11th, were tough on our family. My father, who checked out of the WTC Marriott less than 30 minutes before the first plane attacked, was dealing (we believe), not only with that incident, but with some distant part of his memory from Vietnam. It took alot of rallying around him to help him deal with much of his experience from that day. And, little did I know then, but about 3 months from that day, I would have my heart truly broken, quit my job and move home to deal with the aftermath of my "tragedy".

Erin's family changed that day too. Erin was on her New york leg of her trip on September 11th. She was staying with friends, and while not in the immediate area, deeply affected by what happened. We would not learn until a few weeks later, just exactly why this incident hit Erin especially hard. During Erin's Strikeoutcancer tour, she found a lump in her breast. Upon returning home, Erin learned that it was indeed cancer. She opted for chemotherapy and was positive she would beat this disease. On August 9, 2002, I logged onto our NTT website board I started and Erin had posted this message to us all:


[8/9/2002 10:49:41 AM | erin hamilton]
Hello, all. Sorry it took me so long to get here, but when you hear my story, I think you'll forgive my quietness.

Things have been going pretty well with my treatment. I finished my eighth round of chemo in May and started radiation in June for 7 and a half weeks. Unfortunately, toward the middle/end of radiation I just started feeling really, really sick, and we couldn't figure out what it was coming from. I was getting horrible headaches. As first we thought they might be migraines, but they lasted for a month without reprieve, no matter what medication I tried. It got to a point where I couldn't even lay my head on the pillow without causing incredible pain. One night it got so bad I actually started hallucinating that there were a group of people (nice people, at least) walking around my apartment, kind of like the inhabitants of the movie The Sixth Sense. The next morning I went into my doctor's office, he took one look at me and checked me into the hospital for a couple of days.

While there, he ran an MRI of my brain, among other tests, and confirmed our suspicsions that the cancer has moved on through my bloodstream into other parts of my body. With certainty, we know that there are now three malignant brain tumors, one on the left frontal lobe, one on the left cerebellum and on on the right parietal occipital. They do not expect that brain surgery would be effective for these, as they are quite spread out, but there is an option of treatment that looks to be very, very, good. They have already started treating the brain with a low dose radiation, to the whole thing, with the hope of eradicating any demon cancer cells that may just be sitting around but not large enough to see in tumor form. The next step, which they will start next week, is a radiation treatment called IMRT, which is kind of like playing a highly targeted game of Asteroids with my brain tumors. They plot out a computer plan, then use a face mask and a radar gun to get the radiation to where it needs to go. Each of these sessions lasts about half an hour, and I will have twenty of them, every weekday for four weeks. So, come the middle of September, I fully expect to see myself cancer free, and would appreciate your good thoughts, prayers, energy, or whatever you believe in to help me get there.

I can not explain how strong my belief is that this is going to turn out well. They've thrown some pretty scary words at me, like "Stage IV Cancer", "low survival rates", and things like that, but I somehow really have this feeling that this treatment is going to be exactly what I need and will take care of everything. I have incredible doctors that make me feel listened to and cared for and a team of nurses and office staff that are behind me 100% (not to mention the best friends in the world). I'm sorry I've been out of touch, but you have never been far from my thoughts. I listen to your cds often, and still think that was the sweetest gift I've gotten since this whole thing started out. Your thoughts and kindness mean very much to me! Love, Erin

As you can imagine, we were all devestated. I wanted to fly out and sit by her side-hold her hand-make things lighter and easier. but, I couldn't see Erin ever accepting my offer. She never seemed to doubt for a minute that she was stronger than this disease. We prayed, I sent emails she didn't have to answer, I tried calling, but her voicemail box was always full. I was never surprised. I'm sure she was surrounded by people who loved her and wanted to help her. We learned that on November 21, 2002 Erin had passed away.

I can't really say it's been hard on me. Erin was such a wonderful person. She was so full of life and energy and love. Every person she met (and there were LOTS) she touched and changed their lives forever. Erin had a way of making you want to take the trip you'd always wanted to, to try bungee jumping b/c it seemed exciting, to pick up and try something new...to make you want to fit as much into every second of every day as you could. She, apologizing for the corny Jack Nicklson quote, made you want to be a better person, if only to try and keep up with her! :) And for this reason, I know there are so many people she touched, so many people who will be better people because of her.

As for an emotion, I am pretty torn. I wish I could say I was terribly sad. But I'm not. I can't see Erin slowing down, cancer or no. I really think it's hard to keep a spirit that big and full of life trapped in a body unable to house it. Suffering and being "sapped" is not Erin's style. What makes me sad, is the thing I never got to do, or say...all the times I should've called, or emailed, or gone to see her. I'm sad for me, not for her. And the truth is, I can't really say I know she's gone. Every once in awhile, since Thanksgiving, I want to call her. See how's she's doing. More like the message we got at Thanksgiving was that she's cancer-free and Erin's out running around, living life again. And maybe she is. Every once in awhile, I can see Erin, arriving at Heaven, met by her parents. Then running around hugging all those she knows...and then off, to fulfill her spirit. Perhaps her first stop...Field of Dreams.