Eileen Sweeney, In Memoriam
It was almost a decade ago that Eileen Sweeney, the mother of my childhood classmate and one of My Mom's dearest friends, was diagnosed with breast cancer. Ten years she fought the beast at a cost of two radical mastectomies and, more recently, a series of brain surgeries after her cancer opened a new front in the war. Eileen fought valiantly - hard and for far too long. Tonight, the war for her is over.
I visited her just this past Saturday along with Mom, and I am glad that I did. It was my first time back in Eileen's home since 2000, but there was still something familiar about the scene. Familiarity born from countless hours spent chumming around with her son Eddie during my formative years. Even as a greater and greater distance opened between Eddie and I, Eileen remained one of My Mom's closest confidants, which is natural and fitting for how remarkable those two women are. Like comes from like.
I have often said that cancer is a dogfight. It is a mean, nasty, no-holds-barred affair where anything goes and you just have to keep on coming. It saps the patient's strength - for sure - but if the family and friends around the sick aren't also gutting out the tough fight, the infirmed don't have a shot. Even with monumental support, it's sometimes not enough. Eileen's fight is over. She is at peace. Thank God for that.
Eileen Sweeney is survived by her husband, Larry, and three children: Eddie, Matt, and Kate. The family was together for one last dinner on Sunday night. Eddie arriving with a new fiance in tow. Matt working at a prestigious local law firm. Kate fresh from a semester in Paris.