My Friend And Another Mom Taken By Cancer

My friend Marie Jordanou lost her fight with cancer last night and I am so sad for her, her children and for this community that has lost such a special, strong and veracious soul. Marie did not sugarcoat things, you knew how she felt right when she felt it and yet her heart was so big and warm that it complimented that frankness. Even if she didn’t tell you what she thought, you could always see it written on her face with a sly smirk and in her soulful green eyes. Her five children all have the same incredible coloring as she had, tanned skin and light eyes, and all are stunning in their own ways. They are a testament to her parenting skills, as each one is brilliant and unique, as well as possessing all the qualities you would want in a human being – sensitivity, politeness and a willingness to share a joke. You can help them if moved to do so at

To see Marie parent, was to see someone entirely in their element. So many days I would be rushing to school in my pajamas and see Marie calmly walking in her children with five packed lunches. I always jokingly asked her if she got up at 4 a.m., and soon a friendship formed out of a shared sense of the absurd. I was with her pretty frequently throughout the last eight months when she was first diagnosed and even when she admitted that she was scared, she was still one of the toughest, bravest people I’ve ever met. We cried together, and laughed a lot and talked about life. Mostly Marie talked about her kids, she knew each child so intimately, their concerns were all her concerns and she was always looking for ways to improve things for them, even in often difficult circumstances.

It is devastating to see someone with so much to live for have life taken away. This community will do its utmost to lift up these children, but I have to re-iterate the rather controversial thing I chanted at the benefit for the family at the Malibu Inn on Valentine’s Day. Children were present, and people complained, but not only do I know that Marie would have appreciated the sentiment, but also that it is absolutely what I feel after seeing what she went through and that is FUCK CANCER!

R.I.P. Marie

Marie's Kids
Marie’s Kids


  1. I’m so sorry for your sickening loss and I know exactly what it’s like to loose a parent to cancer.
    Dad was 58 and the four of us were grown, the youngest having turned 21 three days before our beloved and irreplaceable Dad had to leave us. These kids are so young… they can knock on my door any day.
    You’re dead right Susanna: cancer isn’t civilized – it’s dirty, disgusting, cheating, filthy real stuff. Like these kids I wasn’t lucky enough to have the luxury of prudish squeamishness and so, I can’t think of more appropriate words in the English language than…

    • Your dad sounds like he was an incredible guy. As I explained to my kids today, I don’t know what the plan is but I know there is one. Thank you for sharing and for being you!

  2. My husband died of Stage IV lung cancer in May of 2010 at the age of 55. He was a casual smoker in college but had not smoked in 30 +years. We had two mantras during his 14 month illness: “Always have hope” and “Hey cancer, FU. ” I still feel the same way. Our daughter was just shy of 16 when he died. I was 48. We are doing well but it is a long and sad journey. My thoughts are with these children and the adults who will help them. Please donate. I did.

  3. Our children played sports with Marie’s children over the years, and in October I passed her walking her children up to soccer practice as I brought my daughter back from hers and I remember thinking ‘what an incredible mom she is, her children are always smiling.’ I knew she was a single mother of 5 outrageously beautiful children.
    I didn’t know she was sick until Valentines day and we went to the fundraiser and bought as much stuff as we could. I heard what you had to say and while I’m sure some were offended, those of us who have been affected by cancer were totally ok explaining to our children that FUCK CANCER is a totally appropriate reaction to losing a loved one losing their life to it. xo

    • Thank you so much for sharing this. I’m so glad you had a productive talk with your kids about it as opposed to a knee jerk reaction. I’m sorry you have been affected and let’s all be grateful we are still around to be others to our children, even when we least feel like it.

  4. There are times when all that we can do is to show the simple act of caring, and when we do that___ I believe that somehow and some way the world becomes a better place.

    Rivka K.

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