A Young Woman’s Strength of Spirit Endures, Inspires

In the last months of 20-year-old Monica Polanco’s life, she struggled for a sense of balance. From her bed at Long Beach Memorial Hospital, she fought the cancer ravaging her body--doing leg lifts until she was too weak to walk--and, at the same time, prayed for the will to die gracefully.

In the three years that a tumor lodged on her diaphragm, disappeared during a brief remission and then returned with renewed strength, Monica’s fearlessness also grew.

“I have total hope and faith, but that means that whatever happens, God is with me. So there’s nothing for me to worry about,” she said in October. For a short time, she seemed to rally.

But pain soon became inescapable, and her suffering ultimately made it easier for both Monica and her family to achieve perfect balance as she died last week.

Friday morning at Sts. Simon and Jude Church, about 200 family members, friends, former teachers and classmates gathered to celebrate Monica’s life and to give thanks that she was no longer suffering.

Much of Monica’s struggle with cancer had been public. She graduated in 1995 to a standing ovation from her Mater Dei High School classmates, who told The Times that her fight had taught them new definitions of love and friendship.

After she spoke to The Times in a final interview in October, dozens of readers wrote or called Monica or visited her in the hospital to pray.

Steven Lawrence, 39, a cardiopulmonary resuscitation instructor from Garden Grove, knew Monica only in the last weeks of her life but visited her twice weekly until she died.

“She had a tremendous reservoir of faith, and she nourished my faith with hers,” Lawrence said.

Her funeral, officiated by Father Gus Krumm, was sad but not solemn.

“One of the oddest things we do as human beings is gather in sorrow to celebrate,” Krumm said. “But faith calls us here, and we attest to the fact that there is much, much more to life than we know.”

A collage of pictures showing Monica at different stages of her life greeted mourners: Monica in a GI Jane outfit for Halloween, with a huge red heart painted on the back of her bald head, as a knockout in a lacy evening dress, smiling with her father Narciso Polanco, and in her hospital bed sharing a tender moment with her mother, Felipa Polanco.

Other photos shown during a slide remembrance of Monica, including her first communion and high-school graduation, were accompanied by the hip-hop song “I’ll Be Missing You.”

Her sisters, Yvonne Blanpied, 30, Eva Polanco, 22, and brothers, Paul Polanco, 28, and Josh Polanco, 25, read from the New Testament.

In his eulogy, family friend Ben Toshiyuki noted the love that had surrounded Monica in her last days, as her father and stepmother, Rosie Polanco, cheered and nursed her and her brothers and sisters stayed with her, splitting the day into three shifts, seven days a week.

“She’s my hero,” Paul Polanco said. “I’m amazed God was able to fit all that love and energy into a 5-foot, 3-inch body.”

Since Monica’s relapse a year ago, Felipa Polanco had stayed by her side day and night.

“It’s so hard, but I didn’t want her to suffer anymore, so I have to be thankful that God came and took her,” she said.

Monica also had a message for everyone.

In a letter written before her death, she thanked people for attending the funeral and asked her mother to be strong.

“I know me being gone definitely does not help my mom’s pain and suffering. I just hope, Mom, that you will become strong through this experience.”

But her pain is now over, Monica wrote, and everyone who loves her should celebrate.

“In fact, all of you should be jealous I am in a wonderful place. . . . I hope to see you all one day. I will be watching over everyone who has played a special part of my life.

“Gee, that is going to be a lot of watching I’ll be doing.”