My mother, Les E. Thiele, coexisted with late stage Ovarian Cancer for 14 ½ years.

She had a ring made with the words Carpe Diem inscribed, and embodied what it meant to seize each day.

Les smiles at her surgeon, Ray Reilly, who delivered all three of her children. She always asked him to hold her hand before each surgery.

After multiple chemo treatments, a port was surgically implanted in her abdominal area to achieve more targeted results.

After a few treatments early on, Les opted to shave her head when her hair began to fall out.

Distant family member sent flowers to remind her she was loved and supported.

She found the right wig in New York and was ready for anything.

Cancer opens one’s heart, as it did when Les looked at an image of an injured child during the war in Iraq.

Support from friend’s and family reinforced all the love she had in her life.

Les shares a moment of laughter with one of her favorite chemo nurses, Dot.

She took care of those close to her while they struggled watching a friend in the trenches of cancer.

Les’s artistry and fashion sense was evident in the way she wore headscarves.

Her dogs were an integral part of her team.

A rainbow signifies optimism during a challenging time.

For several years, she lived on her own in the mountains while building her dream home that she would later move on from.

Les told me she has a life but her children are her world.

While she was productive in her solitude, family interconnectedness was indispensable.

After years of treatments and several clinical trials, Les began to talk about her time coming to an end.

She stood at the window on the top floor of the cancer hospital where she had defied her prognosis and lived many productive years.

She asked to be cremated and wrapped in a Tibetan prayer scarf an old friend gave her.

If I look close enough, I can still catch a glimpse of Les watching out for her loved ones.

Les E. Thiele 1950-2015