When Survivorship Turns Sacred: Honoring Kaye and Nicole

There is a part of this book that most readers will never fully see.

The warfare.

The delays.

The nights I sat staring at a blinking cursor, questioning whether I had made a mistake starting this project at all.

The level of resistance that came against Black Women Surviving Survivorship was unmatched. The release date shifted three or four times. Some delays were due to my own healing process. Others were because our co-authors were navigating medical emergencies, second diagnoses, or complications that demanded their full attention. Real life does not pause because a book deadline exists.

And then we lost two of our sisters.

Ms. Kaye.
Romana Kaye Simons.

Kaye made it to our meeting. She was present. She was ready. She was invited because her voice mattered. But she passed away before she had the opportunity to write her chapter.

There are pages in this book that were meant for her words.

Those pages remain unwritten. But they are not empty.

Kaye’s life was a testimony of strength, grace, and unwavering faith. She faced cancer with courage and refused to be defined by her diagnosis. She was a mother. A sister. A friend. A light in the room. The kind of woman who made others feel seen and supported, even while walking through her own valley.

Though she never had the chance to write her story, her presence shaped this project. Her absence left a space we cannot fill. But her impact lives between every line written by her sisters.

Then there was Nicole.

Nicole Lee did write her story.

She poured her faith, her fight, and her truth into these pages. She was radiant. Bold. A warrior in every sense of the word. She believed in healing. She believed in miracles. She believed in speaking life even when the odds were uncertain.

During the process of book production, her cancer returned. Aggressive. Unrelenting.

And we lost her too.

Her chapter now carries a different weight.

When she submitted her manuscript, she did not know it would become her final written testimony. She did not know these words would outlive her body. But they do.

Her story is no longer just a chapter. It is a monument. It is legacy. It is a love letter to every woman still walking through treatment, still believing, still holding onto hope when hope feels fragile.

Cancer is a beast. It changes bodies. It changes families. It changes timelines. It forces you to confront mortality in ways most people never have to.

While compiling testimonies of triumph, the battle was still raging for some of our contributors. That reality hit in waves. How do you celebrate survivorship when not everyone survives? How do you press forward when grief is still fresh?

There were days I could not open the document. Days when the memories were too raw. Days when I questioned whether I had the right to compile these stories while my own healing was still in process.

But I knew something.

These stories mattered.

Even when incomplete.
Even when interrupted.
Even when heaven received two of our sisters before the ink dried.

Black Women Surviving Survivorship is not just about remission. It is about reality. It is about the tension between grief and gratitude. It is about honoring women who fought with everything they had, whether they are still here physically or not.

Kaye’s unwritten chapter is sacred.
Nicole’s written chapter is eternal.

Their lives are woven into this book in ways readers may never fully grasp. Every page carries the weight of what it costs to survive. And sometimes, what it costs not to.

This book is heavier because of them.
Holier because of them.
More urgent because of them.

We did not just write about survivorship. We walked through it. And we walked through loss.

As you read this anthology, know that two sisters stand behind it in spirit. Their fight was not in vain. Their love lives on. Their courage continues to speak.

And this book carries their names with reverence.