Saying Goodbye

I was going to blog this week about all the changes I’ve been making to the business quietly, but as usual, life throws you a curve ball and without warning, things that were a priority suddenly seem so insignificant.

On Friday, we lost a beautiful soul, Quinn Linzer, to Neimann Pick Type A. Photographers on Long Island came together and photographed this amazing little girl and her family to chronicle her life in what short amount of time she was given, and I was one of the lucky ones to witness this family, a team, around the holidays.

The Linzer family shared so much of their life publicly to bring awareness to this rare disease. The reality is, Quinn became everyone’s child. We followed her trials and tribulations, as well as her adventures on the family blog, Team Linzer. We loved her like our own. The truth is, I don’t know many of us that have as much strength and courage that is displayed by this family, being dealt a horrible hand and were forced to survive having to make unbearable decisions. Surely they are superheroes. Someone just forgot to give them their capes.

After learning of Quinn’s passing, I watched my daughter play outside. I prayed for the Linzer family, while being utterly thankful that I wasn’t ever put into a position like they were, as I would probably crumble to pieces. My daughter can run, play and laugh, and this was taken from Quinn and her family. It was taken from Eileen and Brett, two of the most selfless people I have ever met. It was taken from Colin and Reid, who are just as innocent as their baby sister in all of this, suddenly having to deal with her not being there anymore. It’s cruel and it’s unfair, and no family should ever have to go through that.

For those who knew Quinn, she was quite the spunky little lady. I imagine if she were still here and grown, she’d probably tell us to knock it off and do something positive about it. Donate to your favorite charity, pay for the person’s coffee behind you in line, give up your seat on the train for a stranger, offer your partner one more kiss for the day, or hold your children for a beat longer.

Saying goodbye doesn’t have to mean the story is over. Begin a new chapter and let her life inspire you to continue it in her memory, because you never know what life will give you. Quinn has taught me not to crumble. That I have the strength to do things that I didn’t think I could. To make what little mark on this world that I can. If I can touch just a third of the lives that she has in my own lifetime, then I am extremely lucky and have lived a full life. We can all be superheroes.

Now begins the healing, acceptance and remembrance, which can all be summed up in one simple word: love.

Quinn Madeleine Linzer
May 16, 2012 – August 9, 2013
Angela Marshall -

Beautiful, Jennifer.

Michelle Kuper Steward -

Such a heartfelt and beautiful blog. RIP, sweet Quinn.

Eileen O'Gara Linzer -

Jen, I just found this post. It made me smile through tears – thank you so much for it, and for the amazing moments you captured <3