Diann Kirk

My mom, Diann Kirk (Farmer) passed away peacefully at home on May 20, 2020. She ended her battle with cancer after a brave fight. At her request, there will be no services. I write this as sort of an obituary and eulogy, and very much thank you for obliging to read.

She was born December 19, 1949 in Leavenworth, Kansas and grew up across the Missouri River in Platte City, Missouri. A small town with good people. She would fascinate me with stories about skating on frozen ponds in winter, then swimming in them during summer, all the while avoiding the water moccasins that were ""thick."" Platte City was the quirky town you would expect, with tales of happenings out by ""Swaney's Barn"" and the famous town car salesman who was blind, named Mackey. Big happenings were unique, and the big site seeing event we'd do when in town was to go see ""the new fence around the fairgrounds,"" which stayed ""new"" no matter the year.

She graduated from Platte City High School in 1968, and I learned much about her through looking at her yearbooks. First, Mom was quite the babe. And based on comments in her yearbook, many of the boys she went to school with agreed. ""Hippo"" as she was joyfully nicknamed, was the head cheerleader, part of the Pep club, played flute, and threw the baton as a majorette. I'm happy to have been able to piece together some friends of her youth between her yearbook and her phone and am glad to have made the connection.

After high school, Mom enrolled at the University of Missouri, but as I was told, got the boot for playing cards in lecture hall. Shortly after, she made the big move west to see what life was like in California. There, she met the love of her life, my dad, Tom. They met as most do, when he crashed her party in Manhattan Beach. They eventually married and settled in Santa Barbara, where I was born in 1977.

After a big earthquake in 1979, my mom announced that she and I were moving out of California, and that my dad was free to join them, to which he agreed. I believe they basically stuck their finger on a map and chose Denver, and so, just before my second birthday, we picked up and moved, a move for which I'll be forever grateful.

I had a pretty ordinary life growing up, one that I've come to learn was extraordinary as I've become a parent.

Both my parents survived well over a decade of sitting on bleachers watching me play baseball, football, basketball, and other sports. As the ""spoiled only child,"" as I was referred to jokingly, I was never short on attention or toys. On the 4^th of July, she would break out a fire baton, and put on a performance, largely aimed to embarrass me, successfully. But she was damn good at it. I never had a day where I went hungry, where I didn't have a roof over my head, or a day where I wasn't loved. The constant attention to my studies and what I saw as endless nagging, directly resulted in me becoming the person I am, of which I could not be more grateful. The sacrifice I've come to learn that they both bore for my upbringing has made me eternally thankful. Thankfully, now as a parent, I was able to express my thanks for all they did and sacrificed and tell my mom how much I appreciated it before she left.

My dad passed away nearly 15 years ago, and Mom's life changed forever. She battled anxiety and depression and withdrew from many of her friends and family. To those she left, forgive her. Things in her life wounded her so greatly, that I believe she lived in a constant state of self-protection. My wife, the most emotionally intelligent human on the planet, has helped me see this for what it was. I'm a fixer and a doer by nature, which runs in direct conflict in how to care for people struggling with such challenges. I think I did better in supporting her now that I've come to realize these pains, but wish I understood them earlier. I'm so proud that she sought the help she needed in the last few years, but I've learned these are struggles that never go away. They require near constant attention, and patience. They require help.

She was kind of a pack rat. She kept many clippings of quotes and articles. One that caught my eye said, ""It's never too late to become the person you might have been."" Please ask for help and encourage those you love and may not understand to do the same.

Now for thank you's… To everyone at Rocky Mountain Cancer Center, Dr. Jotte, Iran, her favorite nurses Diane and Gay, and my recent guide Shannon, thank you for the excellence of your care and the quality of your compassion. Thank you for giving her hope when needed, as well as the hard truth when warranted. To the team at Swedish Hospital, Doctors Nandi, Lewis, Gibson, and Mitri. Nurses Ellen, Lexi, Erika, Miranda, Katie, Christi, and the army of names that fail me. I'm in awe of what you do, day in and day out. Thank you for taking such good care of mom when she was in the worst of shape. Thank you for your patience and for all you do every day. To her hospice nurses, Lisa, Susan, and most importantly Kimberly, thanks for being there. Thanks for being with me. Thank you for helping her go with dignity and in peace, albeit in the Kansas City Chiefs sweatshirt which always pained me to see her wear. To the doctor who gave me a comforting hug when I most needed it, I will never forget it. To all the friends and family that are left behind, remember her as she was, and thank you for the ocean of support.

Last, but certainly not least, I'd like to thank my angel of a wife, whom without, none of this would have been possible. She held down the fort, worked a challenging job, kept care of our kids, took care of and put me back together more than a few times, and enabled me to be with mom every two weeks for each of her chemotherapy appointments, and to be with her until the end. I could not be more fortunate to have your love and support.

Despite the pain, I am comforted by wonderful memories of my mom and my life with her. I am thankful for every minute I spent with her the last nine months...every chemo appointment, every doctor visit, every moment spent watching 9-News on her TV. I am honored to have been there and to have served her as she dedicated her life to me. Without her, I would not be here. Without her, my kids would not be here. She is at peace, and she died well.

To end on something brighter, it wasn't all doom and gloom. She lived a long life. She was loved. She experienced the miracle of motherhood, of happiness, and of seeing a boy become a man. She was able to meet this incredible woman Nicole, who somehow agreed to become my wife. She was able to attend our wedding. She was able to meet and know her grandchildren Logan and Charlotte, who were the light of her life, and who were quickly elevated to the varsity team in front of me. She lived for them. When she was diagnosed with cancer last summer, her greatest fear was that her grandchildren would forget her. They will not.

When I researched how to write an obituary, I learned that it serves as a record of one's life story to live on forever. I think this is why I wrote this. So that people who knew her for decades, or briefly, or who cared for her, or knew her not at all, can know her. Thank you for being part of her story.