Min Jung: Awesome Wonderful Cindy

The first time I met Cindy was during SXSW 2005. Two lovely Asian women introduced themselves to me and wanted lipstick kisses. I was happy to comply. This was my first time meeting Cindy.

It was a brief meeting and there was a few laughs but I think I instantly knew she must be Good People. I was excited to run into her during SXSW during one of the following years. She had broken her foot in some…I want to say…errant swing dancing maneuver? Anyway. She was hobbling around on the dancefloor with a cane. But not just any cane, a totally pimped out blingy pink bedazzled cane. We danced our asses off.

This cane in it of itself tells you an awful lot about Cindy. She could take any situation, no matter how banal, or discomforting, or challenging and add (literal and figurative) sparkle and personality to it. She made it seem effortless.

Cindy and I would continue to see each other during SXSW but we spent more time with each other once she moved to San Francisco. Her first day in town, I took her out to meet with our mutual friend Ernie and go see a “gay synchronized swimming competition”. This felt very San Francisco. She was never one to say no to new experiences and opportunities for fun times. I loved that about her. I was lucky enough to be fed by Cindy. This was always a good thing. She was a wiz in the kitchen and loved to feed people. It was just one of the dozens of ways she made her friends and family feel special and loved. And any random text involving Hello Kitty pop-up sales would get a giggle.

Cindy was nice. Nice. Nice is a word that gets treated like the beige of compliments. But true niceness is amazing and precious. It’s not judgemental. It’s kind. It’s welcoming. It’s generous. It’s forgiving. It’s loyal. It’s consistent. Cindy was all these things. She was truly and completely nice. And while we sometimes looked like our lives were at odds with me being a regular F-bomb dropping party girl, and her a squeaky straight edge, she never made me feel like we couldn’t and wouldn’t be dear friends and confidants.

We became closer friends as we moved forward in our lives as wives and mothers. Cindy was there when my husband Jason and I had to do a flash mob wedding in my living room. I had maybe 14 people in my living room in under an hour’s notice and Cindy rallied and was there in a heartbeat. What a champ.

Behind the camera or in front of it, she was a supportive, kind, and happy friend. A good friend. A great friend. The best kind of person you could ever hope to have in your life.

She still always managed to add her smile sparkle to everything she touched.

Oh how her eyes twinkled when she talked of Matt. I think I’m not the only one who saw her giggly goofy cough syrup commercial with Matt. Matt made her heart glow. She had a partner for all her adventures. Someone strong, kind, and nice - just like her.

Of all the amazing things that Cindy has created, worked on, and developed –I know that becoming a mother to Apollo and Orion were where she found the most joy. They were her miracles and she adored them with every atom of her body and sparkling spirit.

As a mother this is where Cindy shined.

After I moved to Sweden we still kept in touch and in fact, that time difference wound up being handy as we’d both be up at weird hours and we’d have a chance to chat and catch up. We talked candidly about our struggles, and we’d laugh endlessly about baby poop. We’d share about the daily joys of our kids growing up. We imagined what kind of friendship our children would have with each other. I was grateful for our long IM chats. During the dark winters, chatting with Cindy was a bit of sunshine.

When Cindy first told me that she was sick, I was stunned but so confident that her sunny disposition and scrappy spirit would beat it. We made a list of bad things (because I’m that friend - the one who does all the naughty, drunken, fighty things that she would never do) - that she’d be willing to do. Shopping from other people’s shopping carts. Recklessly sampling the olives from the salad bar, petting strangers dogs without waiting for their permission, rolling over the feet of rude people with a shopping cart, having more than 15 items in the express line at the store. You know, wild and crazy things like that. This made her laugh. I always felt like a winner when I made Cindy laugh.

While Cindy was starting chemo, I would occasionally lapse into depression - my own thing. And yet whenever we spoke - she would worry after me. She would want to make sure that I was taking care of myself. And while I could barely manage days of putting pants on - she sent a blanket that she’d made and stitched for my youngest kid. He sleeps under it every night. Amazing. She was always tirelessly creative and thoughtful. My contribution to our friendship was… I think… talking over possible Korean skin care solutions or helping to take her mind off of things by making plans to visit with each other or finding ways to make her laugh.

I’d offered her my liver. It was well sanitized in gin and soju! She declined despite my persistence.

My husband and I would laugh and say “Cindy with cancer still makes all moms look fucking lazy and insensitive. How crazy is that?” Me. “I know! And yet she is still too wonderful to dislike in any fucking way!” In chorus “Fucking awesome wonderful Cindy!”

It’s true. Fucking, awesome, wonderful, Cindy.

I regret so much that we weren’t able to manage a family trip to visit with each other last summer. But I’m so grateful for her friendship and kindness. I’ve really loved learning more about Cindy and how marvelous she’s been as a friend to so many people. Her infectious enthusiasm, her creativity, her kindness, and her love in all the things she did and all the people she touched.

Her niceness.

I love her so much.

Fucking. Awesome. Wonderful. Cindy.