You don't have to know this woman to get a pretty good idea of her vibrant personality from this one photo. Infectious joy, an incandescent smile that lights a room, an inclusive sense of fun. The kind of person who would throw the absolute best parties, and invite everyone. She was a fellow liveaboard at our marina in Annapolis and while we weren't super-close friends, I did consider her a friend. We often crossed paths, traveled in the same circles, attended each others's parties, chatted, and helped each other.
She was diagnosed with cancer shortly after Dan was, though she was given an even grimmer prognosis. It didn't stop her, she kept on doing chemo when she had to, and in between times grabbing every minute she could, wringing out every last drop of joy it held. Every photo I have of her, has that head-thrown-back, full-body laugh. After her diagnosis, she remodeled a house and went sailing in the Bahamas and on safari in Africa; on bad days she sat a home and photographed birds in her backyard. She died yesterday, but she left so many lessons about living fully, about measuring a life not by its length, but by its depth. "I have a feeling that there's a new star in the sky tonight. And even though it's very small, and far away, its light reaches us here and makes the night a little less dark." Burn hot and bright, little star named Lisa.
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