Even as a very young child, Taylor’s day was not complete unless it involved a lot of fun and at least a little bit of mischief. She was masterful at whipping up the house and regularly recruited partners-in-crime. Her antics entertained everyone.
After her diagnosis, Taylor’s fun house was forced to take a back seat to surgery, chemotherapy, rehab, and sleep. I occasionally sensed her rabble-rousing mind at work during quiet times, but she had no energy to enact her plans. Though to be fair, she did sneak out of the hospital once and went for ice cream with Bob. Security was called and chased her down the street. In a competition between two uniformed guards and post-surgical Taylor with her IV pole, you could put solid odds on Taylor.
During periods of remission, or at least feeling a little better, Taylor worked hard to lead a normal life. And to her, normal meant living every day as a wonderful adventure. She sought out friends, activities, and mischief during periods when anyone else would be moaning in bed. She was living proof that cancer and fun can coexist. And Taylor’s friends happily followed her lead with love, support, and more antics.
Taylor embraced the art of living even when ugly challenges and uncertainty loomed. This was just one of the many lessons I learned from her very full, but very short life.