It’s hard for me to write about Suz in past tense. It seems strange that the very disease that she died from brought us together. Two years into my retirement after moving from Ventura to New Hampshire’s seacoast, I remember those meaningful moments with her. With our almost 20 years in knowing each other, we knew that one of us would come to this day.  

I first met Suz Montgomery when I started Ventura College’s first breast cancer support group, which evolved into the Ribbons of Life Breast Cancer Foundation (ROL). Behind the scenes, we became the other’s confidant and personal cheerleader. Despite our busyness, we knew we could call or text each other, bounce off critical thoughts, seek options, and choose the best solution for us to take action. We understood each other and what it feels like to be a leader. Unable to attend all events, we  joked that we wish we could be cloned.

 “Calling”

We both believed in speaking up when others could not, or would not. We could identify wrongdoings and take a stand knowing what we were doing was right and not necessarily easy.

Suz listened and participated in many stories of women and men of all ages. Unlike “moan and groan” conversations, when we first met, she shared her life and lessons learned from the elderly and politics. We shared our experiences with breast cancer. And we both knew the importance of education, advocacy, volunteerism, and developing useful coping skills. We shared that there was a “calling” to all these activities.

Anthony Robbins writes. “It’s in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped.” Suz knew that her destiny would be shaped in her moments of decision. And the results of her decisions gave her the energy she needed to persevere in her community efforts. She created something larger than herself.

Interviews

Suz made being interviewed easy. She interviewed me and so many others with her off-the-cuff style in her local TV show, “Schmooze with Suz”. This strong point brought community professionals together to increase community interest so that positive changes could happen.

Ventura City Hall

Suz and I walked through the marble halls of the Ventura City Hall on multiple occasions. She recruited my support to help propose a bill in the large city counsel room—once the courtroom where Erle Stanley Gardner (creator of Perry Mason) once litigated. It was with Suz’s encouragment that I address counsel members to introduce the local Ribbons of Life organization and the dream of local volunteers to find a place for ROL’s independent breast cancer resource center.

Ribbons of Life

Together, Suz and I were members of a sisterhood we hadn’t signed up for. We knew the complex roads of breast cancer and that women and men don’t generally want to be educated about it until it hits them when they need a crash course. We spoke about complex issues suggesting new ways to cope so that others might experience a better quality of life. Suz spoke to numerous groups during October’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It’s ironic that Suz would pass during this annual awareness month. And before she died, she continued to educate and advocate others using her experiences.

Grand Opening of ROL’s Resource Center

When Suz was going through chemo treatments, she surprised me when she showed up at RoL’s Grand Opening of RoL’s Resource Center. Accompanying her was John, their dog Rodie, Mayor Cheryl Heitman, Susan Jordan—founder and executive director at the California Coastal Protection Network—and her husband, Pedro Nava—attorney and commissioner of the California Little Hoover Commission. 

A long line formed outside the door of the resource center. But that did not hold Suz back. A loud voice came closer. “Leace! Leace!” She jumped in the center’s doorway and held her arms out, “I made it! I made it!” John and Rodie followed as she sat in the new “thriver chair” donated by the local Eva Girls. Her sitting, rocking, and swerving in that chair was indescribable. We knew what it took to get to that moment.

When Suz and John saw Suz’s face on the Ribbons of Life photo quilt, which hangs from one wall of the center—another dream was realized. There she was gazing and pointing to all the faces of so many other inspirational women.

Also, Suz and John attended some of RoL’s monthly breakfast (or “BreastFest”) gatherings. At one gathering, Suz spoke about the importance of emotional support animals and shared stories about her dog, Rodie, who had recently died. Other thrivers had photos taken with a photo of their emotional support animals. Board member Karen Brown had designed and printed a piece of individual artwork for each thriver. 

2015 Thriver of the Year Award

In December 2015, while both of us were undergoing our breast cancer treatments, Suz was awarded RoL’s “Thriver of the Year Award.” After John handed her the phone, which was on speakerphone at the breakfast, Suz humbly accepted this award from her bedside. Despite my fatigue from attending that B-Fest, that next day, I drove to Suz and John’s house to hand-deliver her award. We took one look at each other and both admitted that felt like “crap”. Still, we put on our lipstick and smiled as John captured our spirits together in a photo. She had told me she used the best lip liner! She ordered two. The next time she saw me, she gave them to me–something else to remind me of Suz.

Garden Therapy

Suz’s wit, smile, and encouragement to speak up was contagious. Yet like everyone else, she had her moments when she needed her friends and family to simply listen—especially when her treatment wasn’t going well. Another time, after arriving to John and Suz’s home, she had one of her Sicilian temper tantrums. Others might not have felt comfortable seeing this, but John and I sat and listened. Following her to the backyard organic garden, with each angry word, Suz would yank some weeds. Such therapy this garden was to her as she and John tended this beautiful land that produced healthy food for them and for family and friends. 

Supporting Me and My Husband, Bob

And there was a time, when I called Suz to tell her I had just been diagnosed with a third breast cancer and that it was invasive. She said, “What’s going on where we’re living?” We spoke about Monsanto and the unknown toxins in the air and flow of water from farmlands noting that Ventura County’s women were experiencing too many incidences of breast cancer.

The night before my major bi-lateral mastectomy surgery and lymph node removal, Suz and John invited Bob, me and Mary Looby (a good friend and prominent community supporter) to dinner. Suz’s cooking was tremendous! Being in the presence of Suz, John and Mary brought us laughter, more story-telling and tight embraces. It was the perfect medicine before dozing under anesthesia. Such a cherished gift.

Suz’s LOVE Mug

Sipping from my deep red Starbuck’s cup with the one word “LOVE” imprinted on it, I am reminded of Suz bringing this mug to one of our ROL breakfasts. When we moved to New England, the mug arrived safely—without a chip. Yet on a day close to when Suz and John received their unfortunate news that her breast cancer had returned with a vengeance, I accidentally chipped the pedestal of the mug on our granite kitchen countertop. A chunk of red came off exposing its white ceramic. After Suz confided in me that she would not make it through the year, I reached for her mug. The chip was now a shiny red. Without telling me, Bob had painted over the white ceramic with Schmooze-with-Suz’s deep red-colored nail polish! He knows how much her mug means to me. That’s L-O-V-E!

Now her mug not only reminds me of Suz’s love, but that we are not in control of everything that happens to us. When a mug chips, it can still be useful. And when we feel like we’re falling apart, we can still be useful. Suz did that. She continued to make herself useful by showing up and being open with her community.

Talks About Death

In private, Suz and I spoke openly about death. We acknowledged that our society does not talk about it as much as they should—until they must face it—just like breast cancer. We would say. None of us are getting out of here alive. 

Suz and I knew that the more people we knew, the more we would experience death and dying. With her being an advocate for seniors, and with me being an advocate for those with breast cancer, this was our reality. Yet we both knew that our work was worth the sadness we would endure. Death made us more vigilant towards our efforts. It also reminded us that NOW is the time to make a positive difference.

The Red Leaves of Autumn

In New England’s autumn season, this year the red leaves from the deciduous trees has become my focus. I am particularly attracted the “Suz Red” ones with the yellow veins of life running through them. Looking up to the trees, each leaf has a different characteristic—brown spots in different places, some eaten by insects, and various shapes, sizes, and shades. All these leaves hang together from the same tree. On the tail of a breeze, they let go sailing and gliding through the air to land like a tinted mosaic covering the green grass.

There is a time for each leaf to let go. And despite Suz not wanting to leave us, she knew that she had to let go. She brought so much color into my life and into the lives of those lucky enough to have crossed her path. Leaves now remind me of that.

Suz is silent now. But is she really? I still see her smile and mannerisms, hear her voice and laughter, and feel her tight hugs. I can keep Suz alive in my stories of her and all that she shared. None of us are getting out of here alive. I hear her whisper.

Leo Buscaglia writes,

I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death. They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been enriched by having shared their love. 

Suz now has left her indelible imprint on us. The essence of Suz has become her legend. And this self-described “sassy woman” is still alive in me. She has taught me the spirit of friendship. The spirit of love. And the spirit of speaking up for what one believes is true. She will still tag along with me on my life’s journey.

I thank John, Suz’s daughter, Lisa, and the rest of her treasured family for sharing Suz with us as they live through their grief while knowing that Suz’s love prevails.