She studied the stars—and no star shines brighter than she did.
When Susan Niebur died today, the blogosphere lit up with memories, tributes, and love.
After my last few weeks of sadness, I planned to be writing about something cheerier–but right now I can’t write or think about anything else.
Susan was an astrophysicist, one of a very few women in her field, the only real rocket scientist I’ve ever known. She was also beloved—a beacon of courage, character, inspiration, and grace—for me and people all over the world.
From her diagnosis with inflammatory breast cancer 5 years ago until her latest post just two weeks ago, she taught all of us not just about cancer but about life, and about death.
I met her several years ago at the first blogging event I ever attended. We connected not just as moms, or bloggers, or fellow members of the American Cancer Society Blogger Advisory council—but as survivors. At the time, she was doing well—and she was the only other person I knew who had lost both breasts, wore no prostheses, and had no reconstruction—only she had much more aplomb about it than I did.
She seemed to have so much more of everything—wisdom, courage, faith, and generosity. When I first got cancer, I turned inward; Susan turned outward—founding a blog called Mothers with Cancer, constantly inspiring and organizing efforts to help make a difference.
The irony struck me today that though she had a passion for science, in the end, science let her down–It had no answers.
Another irony is that she studied outer space, but she will be remembered most for her inner space–her lasting legacy will be the way she touched so many people with her words, her actions and her activism.
So young. So impossible to accept—or believe. Just 2 weeks ago I contributed a photo as part of a “love-fest” video tribute. When I heard today about her death, I knew where I wanted–and needed–to be: at the bench overlooking Carmel beach where I spent so many hours during my own cancer battle.
I had a heavy heart, lately filled with so much loss. As I walked away I ran into a friend who has been battling stage 4 cancer for the last two years. Her energy high, her eyes shining, she told me she’s taking a new drug that seems to be working well. And as I watched her walk away with a bounce in her step, I realized it was one of those messages from the universe. That loss will always be with us—but love, and life—will go on.
As Susan was the epitome of inspiration, I hope you’ll be inspired by her life—to read some of her words, contribute to research for the disease that took her life, or just think about her next time you look at the moon or the stars. No star shines brighter than she did.
Melissa says
Darryle, this is beautiful. Susan was such a gift to all of us. Like you, I was fortunate to have met her at BlogHer’10 (where you and I met briefly, via Florinda) although I didn’t get to know her as well as others did. Her memory and legacy will always shine so very bright. Much comfort to you in these sad days.
V says
D/
Until yesterday, I knew little about Susan. I can remember a few times, over the last 2 or 3 years, your telling me about a wonderful and inspiring person you had met through the blogging community who lived in the DC area and had a bad cancer diagnosis. But she had no presence in my life. With your help, that’s no longer true. Thank you.
Your blog, these last 4 years, as a whole, has reflected the full gamut of the life experience – exciting, overwhelming, surprising, painful and, especially, full of love and humor. But, I think, your blog is at its best and most powerful on occasions like today. Most of us live in denial about our mortality. We don’t have, as the Roman generals had, an aide trailing us constantly whispering ‘momento mori’. For Susan, as with Howard and Carol, you have combined your writing skills with your even greater skill as an incisive observer of the human spirit, to give your followers both a fitting tribute and also a reminder to make every moment count.
Love,
V/
Karianna says
Susan was indeed a star. I will miss her very much. Thank you for your kind words here.
Jesica D'Avanza says
This is a truly wonderful tribute and such a meaningful post. Thank you for sharing your story of Susan’s life with us all … and thank you for all you and Susan have both done to further the fight against this terrible disease.
AnneMarie says
Sometimes, I’m sorry is so inadequate and yet, sometimes, they are the only words that can be spoken. I came to know Susan only via her blog and she through mine. We became twitter buddies, both involved with a group using the hashtag bcsm. Breast cancer social media. On Monday, our hearts were shattered. We are not a very large group but the support is immediate, welcoming and warm. When we found out Susan died, many of us were already crying over the death of another one in our group just hours earlier. Every one of us was destroyed. I can’t begin to imagine how deeply hurt you who shared “real time” with Susan are dealing with the loss of someone whose life is the truest example of love in its purest form, grace, intelligence, compassion (she took the time to offer me some encouragement when both my mom and I were blindsided with unexpected additional tests)….
This is a beautifully written tribute to your friend….. she will be missed by people around the globe. She will be missed by me. And I send you warm thoughts at such a sad time.
AnneMarie
Darryle Pollack says
It’s amazing to me how many people she met, in person and online, who felt such a strong personal connection to her. I’ve read so many tributes over the past day or so, and it’s increasingly remarkable to discover how great were her gifts, and how great is the loss. Thanks so much, Melissa, for sharing.
Darryle Pollack says
So sweet–both about Susan and me. I’m glad you feel you got to know her even a little—she was so honest and wise about everything—especially about life and death. Sometimes I feel I shouldn’t talk about death at all on my blog– but Susan was a shining example of how much value there is in being open to discuss death as part of life. If I could believe as you say, that I’ve accomplished that with my blog, or my life, I think I’d be more than satisfied.
Darryle Pollack says
Thank YOU, Kari, for your kind words; I will miss her, too–and still can’t believe she’s gone.
Darryle Pollack says
Thank you, Jesica–for what you do fighting cancer as part of the American Cancer Society. Being on the Blogger Advisory Council is how I first became aware of Susan–remember meeting her in Chicago with Amy Swygert at BlogHer. It’s a terrible loss–and quite a testament to who she was when you think about how much she accomplished in just 39 years.
Jane Houston Jones says
Read tonight April 20th, 2015. Susan is not forgotten She inspires me, she inspires many of us us every day. http://jane.whiteoaks.com/2013/02/06/missing-susan/