Skip to main content
facts & arguments

Lise Gagné

Daughter, granddaughter, niece, cousin, friend. Born on April 6, 1970, in Hearst, Ont.; died on March 17, 2014, in Merrickville, Ont., of breast cancer, aged 43.

My cousin Lise, six years my senior, was the most joyful person I've ever met. She loved all things beautiful, and her smile would fill a room. At my soccer games, when I wasn't needed on the field, we would make a diamond of our outstretched legs and roll the ball between us. Other players would turn toward us at the sound of her laughter – clear, loud and exuberant.

Yet Lise's life was far from easy. When she was nine months old, she suffered a severe concussion, which triggered what was later known as an undiagnosed neurological disorder. Her life was punctuated by grand mal seizures, comas, falls, fractures, surgeries and hospitalizations.

Still, she found happiness in physical activity and music. As a child, she loved to run, ride her tricycle, and throw a ball. Later, she took up horseback riding and relished time spent in the water during her hydrotherapy sessions. In her wheelchair, she happily accompanied her mother Rose on walks around the neighbourhood, and especially enjoyed their tours of the mall on Friday evenings, which gave her the chance to inspect the new clothes on the racks. During musical therapy sessions, her swaying body and arms would cause her wheelchair to rock from side to side as she listened with a big smile on her face.

When Lise visited our home, it wouldn't be long before she ended up with my cat Daphnee on her lap. She adored cats, and Daphnee could tell, because she treated Lise unlike other visitors, whom she usually shunned or attacked. The two would sit together, greatly contented, until it was time for dinner.

Lise's delight in life was paralleled by her love and care for others. Anjanette, a friend with whom she shared a room for a time, could always count on Lise to give her a hug and a kiss when she needed one. And when Anjanette needed to be moved, Lise would help by placing her own hands below those of the attendant. She always had a big smile at the ready for her grandmother Cécile and aunts and uncles when they visited.

Eventually, Lise lost the ability to walk, speak and eat. At 43, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, which took her life seven months later.

Since that diagnosis, as Lise faced what was her final challenge, I have reflected on her life and the meaning it holds. She knew great happiness and love, like many of us do. But she did so despite experiencing extreme difficulties that few will ever face. I believe this was Lise's choice: She chose to take pleasure in life regardless of the terrible things that happened to her. She recognized that joy and love persist within us, somewhere, even under the darkest of circumstances.

In just about every photo of her – and there were many because she loved to have her picture taken – she would tilt her head to the left to show off her preferred side. Even in her final months, she continued to pose like this for pictures, smiling with unmistakable laughter in her eyes.

It takes incredible courage and strength of character to not only find the pleasure hidden in all things but to choose to act on it in the face of adversity, as Lise did, again and again. I keep her picture in my wallet to remind me of her insistence on living life her way, no matter what. It also reminds me of her beautiful laugh.

Sara Gagné is Lise's cousin.

Interact with The Globe