On June 20, Sunday morning I discovered this message post by Mike Cummins:

My oldest sister passed away today. She fought cancer as long as she could, and much longer than any of us expected. Just as the last family member showed up to say their good-bye’s, she left us. Leslie Joell Cummins-Blevins 1979-2010. She is free now. Thanks to all who have and continue to pray. Truly, thank you.

Leslie had been sick for some time, having been treated for stage four melanoma since January. I admire her courage for trying to fight the disease. The survival rate for such a diagnosis is less then 10%, yet she still tried her best. But Leslie was always tenacious like that.

I wish I could say something witty and profound here, or even just pour out some maudlin grief. Unfortunately I can’t really offer up any of that. Leslie and I haven’t spoken in over fifteen years, so the loss I feel over her, while devastating, is obviously nothing compared to what her family must be going through. I wouldn’t dare insult them by claiming otherwise. What I can do is spill some memories. Brief and long ago as they were, I think it shows just how quickly and deeply Leslie was capable of touching others.

You know those infatuations we all get growing up? One right after another? Observation tells me that most people have dozens, if not more during their childhood. I’ve had four total, one of whom I’m now married to. Another was Leslie, who also happens to be my only real “ex”. We met in World Civilization class, and I’ll never forget how comfortable she could make people. I’m a pretty nervous person in general, and practically deadlocked around around girls. Even with Nichole, I was always extremely wary of myself and took careful stock of what I did/said. But Leslie would have none of that. She wanted to know the “real” you, whoever that was, and she was very good at digging through the BS to find it. When you discovered she liked what she saw, it was like being on top of the world.

In other words, Leslie was for a time, much more then a girlfriend. She was a best friend. Our relationship lasted a paltry nine months, and I don’t blame her for getting sick of me. You can’t expect a girl to not get bored with a guy who hangs on them like a lost puppy.

If there is one thing Leslie doesn’t do, it’s anything halfway – even breakups. But that’s part of life no? Fifteen years later I still cherish every memory of her. Note passing, driving lessons, Eagle Lake, Maysville, Camden Park, and so many more.  Even the annoying stuff like that weird dumping fries in the bag thing she used to do. Nah, that’s a good memory too.

Leslie wasn’t some pristine little doll with no faults. She was a vibrant, beautiful, intelligent woman with hang ups like the rest of us and a spirit you couldn’t help but love. I certainly did, and it’s fair to say deep down I still do.

Now I’m just one individual, but in her short time here Leslie has had that kind of effect on many more. At her visitation, several rooms were filled to the brim with well wishers and friends. Obviously her ability to reach others served her well as a teacher, parent, and friend everywhere she went.

As I write this, I also find myself thinking about the family. Jenny, Micheal, and of course Mr. & Ms. Cummins. But mostly her husband T.J. and their children. As a father, I can’t imagine what it must be like trying to explain that Mommy can’t come home anymore. T.J. was always a stand up guy, and it’s a good thing because he has a long road ahead of him. All of them do; hopefully remembering that both children carry a portion of their mother in them will help.

Personally, I regret never going to see Leslie during her fight against the cancer. I would have loved to congratulate her on her family and let her know in person Nichole and I were pulling for her. I never did of course. I was afraid she might be upset and instead sent well wishes through Jenny. Now I realize that was nothing but silly cowardice. In my position she would have been there in a heartbeat and now it’s too late. Instead, I hope by sharing this blurb and keeping her memories I can preserve a tiny bit of her, and perhaps not be so cavalier toward time spent with my own wife and children.

Farewell Leslie, you will always be missed and loved.

DC