I knew Annie Parrott-Ondarza was bubbly, silly, goofy, funny, loving, kind and a good low-post defender. I didn’t know she was a courageous battler. She might not have either, until she w as forced into a fight for her life nearly two years ago. Stage 4 colon cancer. She fought with a positive attitude and prayers, but a few weeks ago, at 35, she succumbed to the horrible disease.
My parents have known Annie’s grandmother Ellen Severin since they moved to Carroll, Iowa, in 1977. She played the organ, and still does, at the First United Methodist Church and was a longtime elementary music teacher (she taught both my brother and I). She is a very dear friend. In the mid-1980s, Ellen’s daughter Jo Ellen and her three children, Ben, Annie and Colin, settled in Carroll. They attended FUMC, too, and we sort of grew up together. I was always closest to Ben because he was just two years behind me in school, and we played a lot of pickup basketball together. Eventually, we shared a house for a semester in college. Annie was in my brother’s class, three years behind.
So, the Severins and Parrotts were families we thought very highly of, and even though I didn’t hangout with Annie, I felt a kinship with her because of our church family. I enjoyed coming home from college and watching her play center on the Carroll High School Class 3A 1996 State Championship basketball team. She came to visit Ben my last year of college, and I think that may have been one of the last times I spoke to her in person. Upon college graduation, she moved to Texas. I kept up with her via social media. It was through a Facebook post I learned of her illness. It didn’t sound good, but Annie was so positive, she had me convinced she would beat it. Her young daughter, Ellen, was a huge motivation, as was her husband, Jose. She kept friends and family updated with a Facebook page. She detailed her struggle with the chemo- therapy but always included positive re- ports of good days and fun things she was doing with her family. It appeared she was beating the odds.
However, by early 2014, it seemed as though things weren’t going as well. Earlier this spring, family members were urging the hundreds of social media friends to pray for a miracle, and then a report of hospice came. On May 3, Annie Parrott-Ondarza died. Like countless others, I shed tears upon reading the news on Facebook early on a Saturday morning. I thought about the deep sadness her family must have felt, and how much anguish she must have dealt with knowing she was leaving a husband and a young daughter.
Weeks later, there hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about Annie. When I want to get angry or frustrated over something trivial. When I say good night to my boys and wake them up in the morning. I want to think I don’t take life for granted. I’ve attended church since I was old enough to walk, and I have thanked the good Lord repeatedly for all of the blessings he has bestowed upon me. I know I am lucky to have wonderful parents, a brother, a wife of 13 years and two beautiful sons. But, I am human, and I get caught up in the everyday mess. The gift that Annie gave me, and so many others, was the reminder to cherish every minute of every day. Stay positive, and shrug off the negative stuff. Don’t dwell on it. We all know that is the proper way to live life, but when you see someone who is battling a terminal illness showing appreciation for simple things like sunsets and hugging her daughter, it is a daily reminder we all need to suck it up and be happy.
Annie has forever touched my life, and I hope her family can take some comfort that in the final two years of life, she gave so many others hope and appreciation of what is really important.