Joe Panella | To the Ashany Family | December 19, 2008 |
Debi Collins | Mom to Angel Andrew | September 18, 2008 |
I came across this site during my daily visit to the memorial that I created for our son Andrew. I read each and every heartfelt word, I viewed the pictures with intensity and as I read this most beautiful tribute, the tears began to flow. How does this happen when one never knew the individual who has moved on to a glorious Heaven where she is safe and healthy and will live eternal life? It happens because death creates a bond for those of us who have been where you are right now, when the pain is still so fresh and the void that is ever so evident, just changes your lives with the blink of an eye.
I too, lost my only sister and best friend, to cancer. We didn't have a decade to hold onto after her diagnosis. Sadly enough, Gayle died two months and four days after a brutal diagnosis of stage IV pancreatic cancer. I was at her bedside for 15 hours prior to her last breath and she died very peacefully and appeared to be free of pain. (I have worked in hospice for many, many years, so I made sure that pain control would be addressed as often as needed. )How fortunate Ilana was to have had her own Guardian Angel, not only as a sister, but as a Physician as well.
One year after my sister died, our 18 year old son was involved in a tragic car accident in which he was ejected from his car. He was maintained on life support for four days and was pronounced dead secondary to irreversible brain damage on July 16th, 2005. Please, if and when you feel that you can, visit Andrew's site. I'm very proud of who he was and will always love him. Creating the memorial has been therapeutic for me and I have met so many wonderful friends.
http://andrew-collins.last-memories.com
My father died eight months after Andrew died and our lives have been changed forever. I focus on everything that I had and the good fortune I was granted to have had such wonderful people in my life.
Ilana sounds like such a remarkable young lady, a fighter, a believer, a friend and someone who truly believed in living each day for the miracle that it represents.
Thank you for sharing such a beautiful life...a beautiful lady and a Golden Soul.
God Bless,
Debi Collins
Ann Israel | - | August 16, 2008 |
Ilana was a client of mine for many years and although she was out of the office from time to time, I never suspected something was wrong because she never once mentioned to me that she didn't feel well nor did she ever let on how sick she was. I had no idea she had cancer; in fact, I was totally unaware she was so ill. It came as a great shock to me to find out she had passed away. She never complained, she never mentioned she didn't feel well, she just made sure that she took care of her job.
I tell you all of this simply to highlight what a consummate professional she was. I feel fortunate to have known her.
I send my most sincere condolences to you.
Ann Israel
Sharon Saltz | Oh Ilana | August 5, 2008 |
She was graceful, so selfless. Wants to know every detail about your vacation, every picture taken of your baby, cousin or niece. Tries to help everyone out. Always trying to help people with connections whether it be regarding a job, a good restaurant or a good doctor.
Everything she did, she did from the bottom of her heart. Her job, her volunteer work. She did it, not to move up, not for popularity, because she genuinely wanted it to be the best that she can make it be.
And she wanted people to feel the best that they can feel too.
Years ago when I was injured in an accident that left me bed-ridden for months, Ilana was there for me every day. Besides calling me four times a day, she literally came over every day. To keep me company, to keep me occupied, to keep me happy. She did. I thought to myself…everyone deserves a friend like this.
Ilana taught me a lot about life. She taught me to embrace my roots and my nationality. Before that, I always just wanted to fit in. She gave me confidence that I never had before. And she taught me to embrace being Israeli, that it was such a big part of who I was. She was my mentor, through my high school years, through my
She was always so level-headed. She had her priorities straight. Family and friends were most important. I am pretty sure that the reason that I never needed therapy like everyone else in New York City is because I had her. Gave great advice. Always had a great perspective on life. Always put things in perspective for you. Everything she did was so selfless, always for someone else’s benefit. Never put herself before others. Never let her illness get in the way of what she loved and wanted to do. Never used it as an excuse. Always kept her head up, even though life dealt her a difficult hand. She had a great attitude on life. We can all learn so much from her.
There is a poem that I know she appreciated, it’s one of my favorites, called success.
Success
To laugh often and to love much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To give of one’s self
To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;
To have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation;
To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;
….This is to have succeeded.
Ilana, you have improved the lives of everyone who knows you.
Thousands of people have breathed easier, just having crossed paths
with you. You are the most successful person I know.
I have one more message to all of you who are here today. Because this is how she would want you to live. And those of you who have been to her apt, you may have seen this poem up on her wall. It was her favorite.
Dance like no one is watching,
Sing like no one can hear.
Love like you’ll never get hurt.
Live everyday as though it were your last.
Ilana, you were truly be missed. Thank you. Lehitroat.
Eran Ashany | Eulogy for Ilana | August 4, 2008 |
I was 13 years old when Ilana was born, and one of my fondest memories of my last few years living at home, before going to college, was Ilana as my darling little baby sister: rolling around with her on the floor, her waking me up in the morning with a kiss on the cheek, my taking her to school with me and showing her off to my friends. And so often over the last 10 years, as I watched her so bravely struggle with her illness, I would think, angrily, “How could this be happening to my sweet baby sister?” “How could this be happening?”
Ilana was the youngest in our family, and of course Dalit, Eyal, my parents and I loved her so much. I wouldn’t say we spoiled her, but she was always our baby girl. She was such a sweet girl. Happy, smiling, friendly are the three words that come to mind when I think of her as a kid. I’m sure my mom has plenty of stories of Ilana’s angst-filled years as a teenager, but I think we all remember, Ilana as a kid, as being so outgoing, so caring about other people, so interested and involved in the lives of her friends and family.
As kids, we used to travel to
Ilana absolutely loved
When Ilana was 18 she went to Binghamton, and 14 years later, she still remained so close with her friends from there, and so many of them are sitting here today. At college, she began to transform from our baby girl to the beautiful, intelligent young lady that she would become. I’ll leave it to her many friends here to relay, if they so wish, stories of the college shenanigans that they all undoubtedly engaged in. Suffice it for me to say that she loved college and her many friends from there. I remember giving her a ride at the beginning of her senior year and taking her to the house she shared with her friends. For the three hour ride, I heard her excitedly tell me about how great and cool the house was, and how she couldn’t wait to get there. Now as my wife can tell you, I’m no prince when it comes to living conditions that I’m willing to tolerate, but when we got to Ilana’s house, my jaw dropped…I mean this place was a dump…broken stairs, peeling walls, random ripped up furniture thrown together, clothes everywhere. And there must have been a dozen people sharing this house. But then I realized why Ilana was so excited. Her gang was there to greet her. Her friends absorbed her into their home. It was her mishpoche, and she was an integral part of it.
It was in the middle of that year that Ilana’s world changed with one word: cancer. Not supposed to have happened, the doctors said. The foremost cancer experts in the world told us that 21-year old girls, statistically, are not supposed to get breast cancer. But she had it. I think back to when I was 21, and the things that I worried about: why didn’t that girl like me…which party should we go to Saturday night…what kind of vacation should I go on after I graduate? These are the kinds of things 21-year olds should be dealing with, and I imagine Ilana was as well. And then everything changed.
Endless visits to hospitals: biopsies, MRIs, cat scans; surgeries, radiation treatments, chemo treatments. The medical details over the last 10 years have been mind-numbing. How does anyone, and especially someone who is so young, deal with such overwhelming challenges. And yet, Ilana did it. And I don’t want to make this sound like some kind of Lifetime Channel movie, where the heroine faces such hurdles without any doubts or fears, and there’s beautiful, bold music playing in the background. As my parents and my sister Dalit know, who were there with her every step of the way, the reality is so much different from how
But Ilana fought. Because she wanted to live her life. She finished her senior year and graduated with her class. She worked at my brother-in-law Andy’s medical office. She went on job interviews and got a job at one of the biggest law firms in the world, Weil Gotshal, where she worked for almost nine years, only stopping two months ago. She planned vacations around the world. She threw parties. She dated. She was always organizing events with her friends. She lived her life. The daily things that most of us take for granted, she had to meticulously plan. How to make it to work every day while undergoing chemo? How to go on dates when worried about hair loss? How to plan a trip months away when you’re not sure what you’re next diagnosis might reveal?
My family and I were so proud of her. Because while she so often had moments when she was so fragile, she would always ultimately gather herself and fight the next fight. Every day she had the courage and the spirit to live that day.
And her personality from her childhood – her warm, friendly, outgoing personality, did not change at all. Many of her closest friends and colleagues had no idea what battles she was facing until many years into her illness, because Ilana did not want to be treated any differently. Again, I think about myself, and my own life, and how silly little things could put me in a funk for extended periods of time, and I marvel at her resilience, and her strength, and her toughness, and her guts. How did she wake up every morning and find the motivation to go to work? Where did she find the energy and devotion to work through 10 – 12 hours days at a high-pressured law firm? How did she maintain her optimism when she saw her friends and family in the evening? And what did she think about as she went to sleep each night?
Speaking of Weil Gotshal, I wanted to thank them for all their support to Ilana and our family over the years, and especially over the last few weeks. There are some 100 people from Weil here today, and over the last few days, the firm has been incredibly helpful to us in setting up a memorial fund in Ilana’s name. One of the partners told me yesterday that Ilana was called “the Ellis Island of Weil Gothsal”, because given her key role in the recruiting department, everyone had to pass through Ilana before starting at the firm. And he said that no one could be more perfect for that role than Ilana, because she was so incredibly warm and friendly, and made everyone feel so welcome.
I’ve talked about friends and family quite a bit here, because I’m convinced that so much of her strength and joy were tied to those parts of her life. Ilana’s friends, so many of whom are sitting here today, and who travelled from different parts of the country to be here on such short notice, meant the world to her. I won’t mention any of you by name because I’m sure I’ll inadvertently leave someone out, but I want you all to know how important you were to her, and you should know that at our family gatherings, we would hear some very interesting stories about all of you! And I really want you all to know that you were instrumental to her happiness over the years, and our family will never forget that.
Family was everything to Ilana. I’ve talked about our extended family in
Andy and Jane were sources of strength for Ilana and all of us during all the ups and downs over the last 10 years. They loved her and she loved them as though they were brother and sister to her. And my brother Eyal was a constant presence in Ilana’s life, inviting her to concerts and parties, and even encouraging her to learn how to play the guitar a few years ago.
There are three people sitting in this room who I need to talk about now, and I do so with such heartfelt respect and love. My sister Dalit has been a hero to all of us, and especially Ilana, over the last 10 years. As the oldest child, a doctor, and Ilana’s only sister, so much responsibility seemed to fall on her. Dalit was the constant intermediary with doctors and specialists of all kinds. She would then have to explain everything to my parents and the rest of us. And then of course, she would have to figure out how to explain things to Ilana, and figure how to do so in a way so that she wouldn’t panic, and help her make very difficult medical decisions, and help Ilana figure out what to tell her friends, or her co-workers. Dalit gave so freely of herself to Ilana and my parents and all of us - and she gave all of us, and especially Ilana, hope, and comfort, and confidence that Ilana was in the best of hands…because we all knew that those hands belonged to Dalit.
Many of us in this room are parents. We’ve all had many nights when we go to bed worried about something minor or major that’s bothering our kids, and I’m sure we’ve all lost plenty of sleep over those things. And it makes me think about what my parents have endured for almost 4,000 nights now, since Ilana was first diagnosed with cancer. My father, who had his own successful battle with cancer almost 15 years ago, served as a living demonstration to Ilana that the battle was worth fighting. He faced very long odds, and he beat them, and he was an inspiration to her. He also demonstrated to all of us, that sometimes love expresses itself in uncontrollable emotion, sadness, even anguish. We would all chide him that he had to try to control his emotions, and he would answer quite simply – how can I, when I feel like my heart is breaking?
I wish I were eloquent enough to describe my mother, and the role she played throughout Ilana’s life. What is there to say about a mother who learns that her baby girl is so sick, and who now has to overcome her own anguish and despair, to find the strength to take care of her baby? There would be times when I was with my mother after we had gotten some bad news from the doctors, and she would be sitting there sadly and quietly, the color drained from her face, but as soon as Ilana would walk in, she would transform herself into a pillar of strength, enwrapping Ilana in her arms, caressing her and telling her that it was going to be all right, that her “Ima” was there to take care of her. I saw with my own eyes that there is nothing so powerful as a parent’s love. Her devotion to Ilana, day-in and day-out, was just a beautiful thing to behold, even in the context of such a terrible disease. It’s something that I will always aspire to in my own life – to be able to so thoroughly give of myself to my loved ones.
Ilana brought all of us together in a way that simply never would have happened without her energy and enthusiasm. I mean we were a fairly normal, fairly close-knit family, but because of Ilana, we started taking annual family vacations together three years ago, something that we literally hadn’t done since we were kids some 30 years ago. And it was Ilana, with everything she had to deal with, who was the one who would organize everything, from picking destinations, booking hotels and flights, and even figuring out our activities once we got there. I remember at our last vacation 6 months ago in
I’d like to finish up by indulging in a secret story in which I’m a direct participant, something that not even my own wife knows about. My oldest son Nathan was born a few months after Ilana’s illness was first diagnosed, and on every one of his birthdays, and every one of Henry’s and Zachy’s birthdays (and by the way, Henry’s eighth birthday is tomorrow), when they were making their little wishes right before blowing out the candles, I would secretly make my own little wish. And I’m not very religious or spiritual so I don’t even know who I was directing my wish to. But as they sat there quietly for those couple of seconds, I would quickly think to myself “Don’t grant them their wish. Grant me my wish. Grant me the miracle of my little sister’s recovery.” My kids, who I love more than anything…I tried to steal their birthday wishes. And the miracle that I wished for obviously didn’t come to bear.
But a different kind of birthday miracle did take place. Three weeks ago, Ilana and Dalit discussed whether Ilana would want a 32nd birthday party. And Ilana was obviously very weak and fatigued at this stage, but she ultimately decided to go ahead with it. And she invited all her friends. And the morning of the party, I was talking to Dalit and my mother, who were helping Ilana get ready. And they both sounded very down and discouraged, because Ilana was so weak and tired that she could barely get dressed, and my mother and Dalit couldn’t imagine how she was going to make it through the party. But the three of them, as they usually did, persisted and made it to the party. And when they got there, and Ilana saw all her friends there from all over the country, and how beautifully they had decorated Dalit’s house for the party, she was transformed. And for eight hours she was laughing and smiling and joking with her friends. And they were all exchanging stories and memories from 15 – 20 years of friendship. And at midnight the party was still going strong, and it was just a beautiful thing to behold.
So sadly, the miracle that I wished for did not come to pass. But for me, seeing the power of friendship, of devotion, of love, and the magnificent effects it had on Ilana and everyone around her, was a miracle in and of itself. And when I think of my little sister’s beauty, and intelligence, and her courage, and her spirit, and her guts…I know that she will always be with me.
Thank you.
Dalit Ashany | For my sister, with love | August 4, 2008 |
In early 1976, when my parents first told me that we would soon have a new member in our family, and that I would have a baby sister, I responded with all the grace and charm one might expect from a 15 year old teenage girl. I threw a tantrum. I remember feeling that I was being replaced and felt that we already had a perfectly fine family with 3 children; 1 girl (me) and 2 boys. Well, I came around within a day and welcomed Ilana very happily when she arrived soon after my 16th birthday. Within a few short years, it became very obvious to me that I had my very own fan club. She always made me feel, even when she was a little girl of 5 and I was beginning medical school in
Her diagnosis of breast cancer at the unheard of age of 21 rocked my world. I honestly felt that I couldn’t go on enjoying life with the knowledge that my little sister had been given a diagnosis that just didn’t happen at such a young age. But I had to go on and I learned to continue living life to its fullest by following her example. She taught me so much in that regard. As the years went on and her disease sadly progressed, there were many tough times. I won’t say that she never cried or was never angry or depressed, of course she was. But she had an amazing ability to adapt to every new change in her condition or any new treatment or procedure, and move on. Continuing to work, going out, planning events with her friends, traveling. You name it, she did it. She truly reveled in her friends successes; marriage, pregnancies, job promotions even as she felt that her illness hampered her ability to do the same. We would talk almost nightly in the past few years. I learned that if she wanted to talk about her illness, she would bring it up; not me, and because that wasn’t often we would mostly just share the events of our days. If she was going through a bad period and did want to talk, she would invariably after a few minutes of conversation, take a deep breath and say something like, OK so what did Nina do today or how’s Danny? We could then go on and talk about anything and everything and she was able to laugh and set aside, at least for a while, her illness.
She never became invested in her disease and never wanted it to define who she was; despite the fact that as it turned out, she dealt with it for a third of her life and her entire adult life. I think we all have something to learn from her example. Continue to enjoy life despite adversity. Find some joy in the midst of tragedy. Her legacy is all of us who knew her and loved her and will never forget her.
David Brown | Our Ilana | August 3, 2008 |
Kay Lagaros | I will miss you Ilana | August 2, 2008 |
Jaime Tan | To Ilana | July 31, 2008 |