Farewell, My Friend
Hi, Chelle, I'm finally getting around to replying to your heartfelt comment. I think the pastor at her funeral summed…
Last week I travelled back to Iowa to celebrate the life of a childhood friend. She was kind and vivacious. A daughter, a mother of four. Why she was taken so soon from the many who loved and needed her, no one will understand. All I know is the acute pain of bidding farewell to someone I’ve known for decades, and my age as well. When I learned she was gone, I had been standing impatiently in a restaurant awaiting my overdue takeout order, making a mental inventory of everything I needed to do that night, the next day, and the following week. I pulled Facebook up on my mobile as a distraction.
And there it was.
Suddenly nothing else but the news mattered. I felt ashamed of my perseverations and stresses. My to-do list suddenly seemed a blessing. To have a full life and the ability to participate in it seemed a great privilege.
When my kids’ schedules seem overwhelming, I think how my friend can no longer juggle the responsibilities of motherhood. When I think of the holiday preparations left to finish, I think how she can’t spend another Christmas morning with her children. If walking our Labrador seems a chore, I think how she, a perennial animal lover, can never snuggle and pet her dog again. Yes, my perspective has been forever changed.
Rest in peace my friend. I hope you are walking your Maltese, “Muffin,” who preceded you. And groovin’ to the Beach Boys and Chicago. Just like we did when we were kids.
I remember her too… although I moved away right before our senior year in High School. Although every single one of my memories of her is over 25 years old, as I look back and reflect, one thing stands out.
She was a very gracious lady– and compassionate, as well. At a time when most of us other teens were snarking at each other– and at life in general– she had a knack for saying just the right thing at just the right time and making you feel like *someone* understood.
I wish I would have gotten the opportunity to know her as an adult, too.
Goodbye, WG.
Hi, Chelle,
I’m finally getting around to replying to your heartfelt comment. I think the pastor at her funeral summed WG up perfectly: what you see is what you get. If more people could be like she was, the world would be a better place.
So pleased to hear from you. Do keep in touch!