My godmother (or Nini, as I liked to call her), Sylvia, passed away in December of breast cancer. Although she fought for 13 years, Nini knew she would never be cancer free. She wrote a reflection on this difficult truth in a letter before she passed. My aunt, according to Nini’s wishes, shared those heartfelt words at the funeral. What was a heartbreaking day evolved into something different; my godmother, being as wise as she is, left our family with a lesson about hope so beautifully impactful that I can’t help but share it myself.
I wish that I could paste her writing here, just as she left it, but I can’t. Instead, I’ll do my best to capture the essence of my Nini’s story in my own words (with a few exceptions in quotations).
As you can imagine, my godmother underwent a lot of treatment over the years. Every day at the hospital, she watched as other patients rang the infamous cancer-free bell – a bell she knew she’d never get the chance to ring. This constant reminder sparked a “roller coaster of emotions” for Nini. She was, for good reason, saddened by the bell, and she felt “ungrateful” for feeling so upset. She chose, however, to redirect her sadness. A friend of hers shared an illuminating perspective: Nini should be able to ring the bell for her accomplishments.
So she did. She bought herself her own “little bell” to ring after every successful treatment, and celebrated her accomplishments every day. At the end of Nini’s letter, she requested that her loved ones honor her through the bell. She bought over a hundred of them, each decorated with a thoughtful ribbon, for her family and friends to take. Together, at the end of her service, we rang our bells to commemorate her hopeful spirit; my Nini was finally cancer free.
The bell, however, was about more than her health. It served as a reminder that there was so much in her life worth celebrating: supportive family and friends, amazing healthcare workers, the beautiful wilderness. Nini lived her life to the absolute fullest every day. This adventurous, optimistic outlook is exactly what I remember most about her, and I’m sure she would want to share it with the world.
The first time I rang the bell on my own was in late January. I got home from a competition, in tears because I didn’t do as well as I expected. My mom had spent the whole car ride trying to lift my spirits to no avail. The bell, stationed on my kitchen counter, stared at me. I was urged, by some spiritual force, to ring it. I didn’t feel like celebrating, but I did. My mom, relieved, walked over and hugged me tight.
“Thank you,” she said. And I didn’t know if she was talking to me or to Nini Sylvia.
Since then, I’ve rung the bell almost every day for my accomplishments – big or small. When I win an award or come home from another competition, I ring it. When I make it through a stressful school day, I ring it just the same. My Nini has shown me just how much I have to be grateful for, and how there is always something in my life worth celebrating.
So buy yourself a bell. You’d be surprised just how much your spirits can be lifted by that metal clang. We humans take so much for granted – our families, friends, favorite food, movies, hobbies, memories. That is what we fight for. What my Nini fought for. Amidst a world of tumult and disparity, the only way to progress is to know what we strive for, and to love it unfailingly.
In my Nini’s words, “life is good, so enjoy it everyday!”
