It’s common to lament aging, but getting old is a gift not everyone gets.

Last month, I lost my friend Courtney to cancer. She was only 40. When we met, she was in her early 30’s but had the maturity and wisdom of someone with much more life experience. We hit it off right away and had many wonderful conversations. She was smart and funny with a heart of gold.

A few years later, she married and moved to a new town. We didn’t talk much but I followed her on Facebook, delighting in photos of her adorable twins, watching as they grew from infants to toddlers. They are now preschoolers. She had the beautiful family she had always wanted.

And then she was diagnosed with a particularly aggressive form of breast cancer. At first, the treatments seemed to be working. Then there were setbacks and with each alternative treatment and trial, her prognosis got worse.

I started following her caring bridge page. I wrote encouraging comments just to let her know I was thinking about her and praying for her strength and recovery. It’s hard to know what to say, but I believe saying something is always better than saying nothing at all.

She put on a brave face as she endured the side effects of the various treatments while also focusing on making memories for her children. They went on family trips to the beach in North Carolina where she once lived. They took the twins to Disneyland. Throughout it all, she and her husband continued to hope and pray for a miracle.

As the cancer spread, Courtney continued to look into new trials. She wanted her children to know that she never gave up. And she never did. A week before her death, her husband brought her to the emergency room in extreme pain.

It was there that the doctors advised them to consider hospice as she no longer qualified for the one remaining trial they had hoped might work. Her husband wrote that it was as if a huge weight was lifted from her shoulders. She went home and died surrounded by loved ones a few days later.

There is so much to take from Courtney’s story – and there are so many stories like hers. Stories of young, healthy people falling ill. Young people who will not see their children, let alone their grandchildren go to kindergarten.

There are the cliche’s and wisdom we learn from these sad stories; life is unfair, life is short, never take your health for granted, live in the moment, etc. And all carry truth. What I get is that life is fragile and unpredictable. And every day is a gift.

On the morning that Courtney passed away, I was getting a follow-up mammogram and sonogram. My yearly screening showed some inconsistencies that required more views. I was nervous, but kept telling myself that “it’s usually nothing.” Any woman who’s had to go in for a second mammogram knows that feeling.

During the time it took to complete the scans, I tried to keep my thoughts positive. I chatted amicably with the radiology technicians. They must get this all the time – the nervous conversations, the attempts at small talk as they bridge that gap between being a detached professional and a patient confidante. I’m sure it’s hard for them too.

Through the wonders of modern technology, I received my results almost instantaneously, getting an “all clear” from the radiologist via an email to the technician. My emotions were at once relief and cautious optimism – because we may not always get the “all clear.” Still, I felt gratitude for my health and appreciation for the miraculous capabilities of diagnostic medicine.

On the way back to the changing area, I noticed a younger woman making her way into the mammography room. She was wearing the requisite “tied in front” hospital gown and had the same nervous half smile on her face I probably had. I remember hoping that they found nothing concerning for her as well. I hoped she went home to her family with a feeling of relief and not dread.

And then I thought about Courtney. She had been on my mind a lot as her health updates became less hopeful and more resigned. A few hours later, I checked my email and saw the notification for a new entry on her caring bridge. With a heavy heart, I clicked on the link – and there it was.

There were just few sentences among the photos.  She and her husband sitting with their children on the front porch, her – pregnant with the twins, her – smiling defiantly – bald head and hands on hips. She had passed peacefully surrounded by loved ones after fighting valiantly.

Why do some people win the lottery when it comes to health and longevity? Why do so many bright lights get snuffed out before their time – leaving loved ones behind, grieving and with an unfillable void?

It’s sometimes hard to see getting older as the gift it really is. It’s challenging to experience our bodies breaking down, losing the ability to do things that were once so easy. We miss the youthful energy and glowing skin we once had. But instead, we get to experience life for just a bit longer.

We celebrate birthdays because they aren’t a guarantee. Every minute, every day, every year, gives us the opportunity to watch another sunrise, laugh with a friend or make a difference in the world. We can honor those whose lives were cut short by not taking ours for granted.

This one’s for you Courtney. You will not be forgotten.