Reflections
I once read a quote from S.E. Hinton that resonated with me: "If you have two friends in your lifetime, you're lucky. If you have one good friend, you're more than lucky." The tone of this is already sounding different than I wished to convey. One of my favourite movies taught me that eulogies should be for the living. Perhaps that is the sentiment I wish to express with my words?
I know all too well that life is short. Whether you don’t live to see your birthday as in the case of my still-born twin or live to be 83 and outlive a husband by 35 years, life is truly a series of joys and heartbreaks.
In April 2018, I received one of the most devastating messages I have ever read from my best friend Lisa. The symptoms she had been experiencing for some time resulted in an ALS diagnosis. Individually, the letters hover at the beginning, somewhere near the middle, and the end of the alphabet. When combined, ALS has left so many questions than I can dare to ask, a heaviness in my heart, and more tears than I thought possible.
Until she shared the news herself, I didn't feel right in spelling out my feelings here for the world to read. Forty-two years is far too young to have been handed a death sentence. Imagine the horror and tears associated with that three lettered diagnosis to which there is no cure. I know she’ll fight this as long as she can. I am grateful that she has so many amazing people in her corner.
We were supposed to grow old and grey together. We had even joked through the years about becoming eccentric old cat ladies. (I’ve already nailed the eccentric part.) At her wedding reception a decade ago, I delivered a toast and referred to her as my most successful relationship. I meant it and I still do. Time and circumstance have not and will not change that.
I now feel as though we’re both existing on borrowed time. I look forward to when I get to see her again. Until then, the crackle of a phone line or the tones of messages both sent and received will have to do. Very recently, I spent a week and a half with both her and her family. Tears, laughter, and trips down memory lane were plenty. As we went through mementos and old photographs, it struck me even further as to how similar we are.
How does one possibly provide a summation of close to thirty years of friendship? Through silences, incessant chatter, laughter, tears, and more hours on the phone than I could possibly count, she knows me as well as I know myself. At the risk of waxing poetic, she knows the song of my heart and sings it back to me when I have forgotten the words.
I know all too well that life is short. Whether you don’t live to see your birthday as in the case of my still-born twin or live to be 83 and outlive a husband by 35 years, life is truly a series of joys and heartbreaks.
In April 2018, I received one of the most devastating messages I have ever read from my best friend Lisa. The symptoms she had been experiencing for some time resulted in an ALS diagnosis. Individually, the letters hover at the beginning, somewhere near the middle, and the end of the alphabet. When combined, ALS has left so many questions than I can dare to ask, a heaviness in my heart, and more tears than I thought possible.
Until she shared the news herself, I didn't feel right in spelling out my feelings here for the world to read. Forty-two years is far too young to have been handed a death sentence. Imagine the horror and tears associated with that three lettered diagnosis to which there is no cure. I know she’ll fight this as long as she can. I am grateful that she has so many amazing people in her corner.
We were supposed to grow old and grey together. We had even joked through the years about becoming eccentric old cat ladies. (I’ve already nailed the eccentric part.) At her wedding reception a decade ago, I delivered a toast and referred to her as my most successful relationship. I meant it and I still do. Time and circumstance have not and will not change that.
I now feel as though we’re both existing on borrowed time. I look forward to when I get to see her again. Until then, the crackle of a phone line or the tones of messages both sent and received will have to do. Very recently, I spent a week and a half with both her and her family. Tears, laughter, and trips down memory lane were plenty. As we went through mementos and old photographs, it struck me even further as to how similar we are.
How does one possibly provide a summation of close to thirty years of friendship? Through silences, incessant chatter, laughter, tears, and more hours on the phone than I could possibly count, she knows me as well as I know myself. At the risk of waxing poetic, she knows the song of my heart and sings it back to me when I have forgotten the words.
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