Do you know? Do you feel this swell of hope, love, and sorrow? Is there time to tell you, again—so you hear us, this is so important—that you are our champion? None of us is a stranger because we know you. We Love You, Lisa. You remind us, every Monday, to be more responsible, less scared… smarter. You encourage us, every day, to find beauty, share it… persevere. You showed us the Stage IV monster under the bed and how to live with it. Never shying away, never tying it up with a pink ribbon, never excusing the ravaging rogue cells who take away too much, too soon, unfairly and cruelly. This is no gift. This is no blessing.

Does it help? Can knowing you have the awesome, angry, prayerful, solemn, witty, fierce, and unrelenting support of thousands be of service? Here’s what we can do. This is what we will do. In lieu of a thousand casseroles and get-well-soons, we will plant thousands of flowers. We will donate thousands of dollars to Sloan Kettering. We will make doctor appointments on Mondays and take our Christmas lights down promptly. We will make you proud.

Lisa Bonchek Adams, you educated a nation about metastatic breast cancer while simultaneously creating a supportive community that shares information and love, blooms and corgis. Your name is an emblem of fearless writing, intelligent advice, compassionate nagging, and Beauty. We are grateful, angry, sad, beholden, and helpless. If we can have no miracles, then we wish you peace and comfort.

We Love You, Lisa.