Kathy Symanski started dying when she was only 53 years old.
All her life before that age she spent surrounded by her family and friends. She had many especially enhanced moments.
And there where so many of those especially enhanced moments. Each one of them wrapped in crisp white paper with ammonia additives that freed the nicotine into her inhaled smoke.
It’s another especially enhanced moment on the patio, or sitting in traffic while listening to music. Painful and sad times were enhanced. Good times were enhanced. The mundane times were enhanced. Her chemo days, shuffling in her slippers to the nearest hospital bench were even especially enhanced.
Here family and friends finally gathered around her. They wished Kathy could have had less especially enhanced moments and more regular moments to enjoy the rest of her life with them.