A reason, a season, and a lifetime

Please note: this piece contains descriptions of cancer that some readers may find upsetting.

They say some people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. That there are people you are destined to meet, tied together with an invisible string, that weave the web that is you. But not all of these people will be walking with you to the finish line, not all of them will be in your life forever.

Some will only join you for a short time, to teach you a lesson or help you grow. And although their time in your life may be brief, sometimes, these are the people that will leave an indelible mark on your life, and you will remember forever. My friend Sintija was one of those people.

We met five years ago when our children started pre-school nursery together. We were the class of 2020, the year the world stayed apart in the world-wide pandemic, and when the children were finally allowed to return to school, parents joined them at the doors, releasing their once locked down children, back into mainstream education. It was here that I first met Sintija, a foreign young mother at my daughter’s school nursery.

Sintija was tall and slim, with long light brown hair and legs that went on forever. She had her own sense of style and fashion too, but her inherent openness and friendly manner were what struck me most. She spoke to everyone she met, and I never left her company without feeling like I’d had a genuine conversation.

She looked at you, she asked about you, she listened to you. She shared openly about her life, the highs and lows and she laughed, a lot. She was incredibly funny, but what came shining through, was her true devotion to her son. They were always together, and she would proudly say he was the best thing that ever happened to her.

Always offering friendship.

As the transition from lockdown to regular life trudged forward, chats with Sintija became one of my daily encounters at pickup and I looked forward to our long conversations in the playground and after school. She was always smiling, always offering her friendship.

But one day, things were different. One day I noticed she was much thinner, and her beautiful long hair was tucked away in a hat. I was lost for words when she told me she had breast cancer and her hair was falling out.

I couldn’t believe I didn’t notice sooner. But times were different then, social distancing was still in place, and it wasn’t uncommon for people to be away from school for periods of time with covid outbreaks.

Living with cancer

My heart instantly went out to her. I was entering a world I’d never known, with a friend who was now living with terminal cancer. I had no idea how to help. The next day I was back at school with a ‘happy box’ I’d made for her, full of wellbeing gifts. It was all I could do to show I cared.

Sintija though, seemed to take it all in her stride. She talked about her diagnosis, cancer in her breasts, her bones, the chemotherapy she had, the surgery they scheduled. ‘The plan’ she called it.

She would get all this done and go back to life. Not once did I she ever talk of the end, or the possibility of it. Each day she would come to school, before and after her chemotherapy. She was always there for Nicholas and said she liked to meet up still and chat. Saving up her energy for the pickup later, she slept and rested in between the school run.

The beginning of the end

But time marched on, and each update, came with bad news. The chemotherapy wasn’t working, they could no longer remove her breast, her options, had run out. She was now stage 4, and the friendly girl I had known in the playground hid away, shrinking each day in size. My heart broke for her and Nicholas.

And then the day finally came when the pain was too hard to manage, and she began palliative end of life care, and her presence at school was gone.

We kept in touch often, swapping messages, and I was excited to see her when she said visitors were permitted. Friendly as ever she greeted me, in spite of the pain I knew she was in.

No sooner as I was there, she gave me a belated Christmas present. Still thinking of others and finding the effort to smile. We laughed that day for the final time and although I didn’t know it would be the last time I saw her, something inside told me that it was.

Soon after, my daughter’s birthday arrived, and Sintija messaged to say the hospital wouldn’t let her come as she had planned. She had an infection, but Nicholas would be there, with Skye’s present. She didn’t want him to miss the party or Skye to not get a present.

She died that night.

Saying goodbye

Her passing although expected, hit me hard. This beautiful girl who I’d met on the school run had become my friend, and I cried, deep tears of sadness at her loss.

One year on from her passing and I think of her often and know I always will. She offered me unconditional kindness, and friendship in a world where these things are so often taken for granted. And she gave back and cared right up to the end, with only love, and hope in her heart.

Sintija to me was a friend for a reason, a season and a lifetime. She taught me love, hope, kindness, and the power of the friendship, and shared an important part of my life with me. And although our friendship was cut short, I know the memories of it and the footprints she left in my heart will last forever.

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