Sharon Lee

Sharon was many things to many people.  Called just about everything a good person could be called.  She was unique and vibrant.  She had an easy, simple way about her.  She was easy to love.

To me, she was Mom.

Faithful and quick to smile and endearing. Loyal but could make you think hard when you needed to.  Full of compassion.  Governed by a deep well of intuition.  Generous beyond measure.  Her eyes smiled.

A counselor by schooling, profession and salary.  A profession that did not shut off at 5 o'clock.  Her empathy for those in the struggle, in the midst, in the shadows bled from every ounce of her being.

Always quick to listen or encourage.  The kind of person that would not just lend a hand, but give the shirt off her back if she thought it would help.  Given the exceptional ability to help people make their lives work better.  Striving to do what was right, especially when it wasn’t easy.

Married to my dad, Dr. William Gould, for 29 years.  In 1999 they were busy planning the party which would celebrate their 30^th anniversary together.  Mom was devoted to Dad in every sense of the word. And Dad was always grateful for her love and her free-spiritedness.  After their wedding in March 1970, mom was tested almost immediately as my father became critically ill.  He suffered from a life long condition that threatened to take his life at any moment.  When that affliction finally took him, the loss to follow revealed the amazing depth of her goodness and love.  The anniversary party never happened, but mom pressed on.  She stuck around to witness graduations, careers, marriages, homes, and children. She hung around until she knew I got things right before she sounded the all-clear.

Never for a moment have I doubted her love.  Life taught her a lot about loss and, in turn, she was able to teach me a lot about love.  She gave me the freedom to grow and explore, to fail and succeed and to build my life on my own terms.

She did not gently set her feet in the shallows along the water's edge.  She dove down deep into the unknown of the sea. She figured life out, and learned to do the important things today, and not plan and wait for someday in the future.  She knew all too well, that tomorrow does not always come.

She was a character.  She was one of those people that didn’t live just one life…  During the last of her lives, cancer accompanied her every move.  For years it twisted everything I thought to be true about life.  It broke the mold of my understanding about how life should go.  In the end, it couldn't be fixed or stopped or killed.  It won its relentless pursuit.  But it could not have fully realized who it was pursuing.  

This beautiful soul - radical love, spirited hope, simple joy.  I am honored to be called her daughter.  When I made the promise to care for her so many years ago, I could not have known the path that vow would take or how I would be transformed in the process.  Cancer is different the second time around… The first time you play to win, but the second time you play to live long enough to try and die from something else.  My world shrank as the disease became a crucible.  I got a crash course in life and death and the division between the two was blurred.

She continued to inspire me even until God turned to the last page of her story.  I waited and prayed and cried that quiet September evening, and finally came the concluding, irrevocable exhale of her sweet life.  And just like that, she slipped away.  Her hand locked in mine, but her soul free.  Cancer was not the real teacher.  It had always been her.  In her death, she silently taught me that vulnerability was the source of her true strength.

"I had been afraid of the awful presence of the river, which was the soul of the river, but through her I learned that my spirit shared in the spirit of all things" - Bless Me, Ultima