On Friday the 13th, Friendship and Saying Good-Byes You Never Wanted To Say

Yesterday was a Friday the 13th, capping off what was a very odd, slightly off-kilter week.  I returned to work on Monday, having been on vacation for nine(!) whole days, which included the 4th of July holiday (fireworks, hot dogs, potato salad and apple pie, oh my!), the longest time I have taken in over two years, was wonderful.  I had time to visit with friends I hadn't seen in a very long time, hang out at home painting, sketching, reading, spoiled my cat silly, no traffic hassles, it was, in a word, blissful.  I got the chance to reconnect (for lack of a better word) with my artistic side, painting to my heart's content. Had forgotten how truly satisfying it is to swoosh paint around on a canvas and then hang your creation on a wall.

Returned to work, happy to see everyone, fell back into my usual work-week routine.  Looked forward to Friday the 13th.  Since everyone is always so flipped out about them, I make it a point to make them extra nice.  This one, not so much.  Yesterday morning (the 13th) I woke up to a text from a very dear, very old friend, saying her grandson (in his 20s) had passed away.  Funeral on Saturday (today).  I knew his daddy when he was a little boy.  My friend had three children, two boys and one girl.  They came over my family's home often, we had barbecues, played chess, checkers and just had a good time hanging out.  I still see those two little boys running around on our lawn, eating burgers, having fun, while their sister tried on every single piece of jewelry I had. They grew up, married, had babies of their own.  We have always kept in touch.  She called me one day to say her youngest boy had died.  He had been murdered.  About two years later, her oldest died, also the victim of violence.  Throughout all this, she retained her calm, her faith rock solid.  She read, beautifully, at my Dad's funeral Mass.  Time passed, but still we always have stayed in touch.  I know she found solace in having her sons' children near her.  Last year one of her grandsons was killed, and this week his twin also fell victim to violence.  I have no clue what I can do, what I can say to her to make it better.  Don't think there is such a thing.  The pain of losing a loved one, even when they have been sick for a long time, is unfathomable.  I can't even imagine losing someone suddenly, out of left field.  Losing a child.  How do you come back from that.

Another friend texted to say she is having surgery, a small health issue became complicated, surgery was needed, to please keep her in my prayers.  Always is.  She has a lovely family, whenever the news gets a bit overwhelming and it seems like the world is going to hell, I think of her and her family and know that, yeah, the world may seem like a madhouse, but there are still families out there with solid values, real families, who love, respect, trust each other, actually like each other.  Because sometimes you love a family member, but not necessarily do you like them.  Her family reminds me a lot of what my parents, grandparents and I had.  We actually liked each other and enjoyed spending time together.  My friend's family is the kind of family who has dinner together and goes to church, on family vacations, they live what we used to call normal lives, but now seem to be the exception to the rule.  Later in the day, she texted me saying her cousin's husband who had been battling cardiac issues, finally had a heart transplant earlier this year, and seemed to be rallying, had passed away.  And I am heartbroken.

I never met her cousin's family, but I feel like I know them because they are part of my friend.  And if you are part of someone I love, then you are part of me, no matter how far or how near you may be.  There are people in my life I am no longer in touch with, but I do love them, always have, always will, simply because they are part of someone long-gone, but still very much loved and missed.  There are friends I love dearly, even though I see them once in a blue moon, but still they are a part of my life, always have been, always will be. There are friends that have been with me through thick and thin, friends that have shared their babies with me, we have gone for years without seeing each other, then one day a knock at the door and there's her oldest child all grown up and hugging her feels like coming home.  Years later holding her firstborn in my arms, I feel my heart breaking and expanding all at the same time.

Friendship is seeing children you love as your own grow up, become amazing adults.  You remember them as babies, remember one of them teaching her little sister how to sneak out of the playpen, remember them running through the house buck-naked yelling "Aaaaaahhhhh!" like a heathen and standing in their crib, all grumpy in the morning, giving you dirty looks and saying "Cheche!" demanding their milk.  You remember the morning they rushed into your house to find a freshly-cut Christmas tree, filling the house with its delicious scent, and they stood stock-still, their eyes filled with wonder.  Remember when one of them doused herself from head to toe in all your perfumes and you had to march her (over her very loud protests!) into the shower because, frankly, she reeked.  No matter how loudly she wailed "Nooooo, I don't stiiiiinnnkkkk!"  Your heart broke the first time she got her heart broken, you wanted to find and seriously damage the heartless cad.  And now, now these little girls, well, they're all grown-up and you can talk for hours with them, marveling at what amazing people they have become.  Friendship is a treasure  A friend is not an acquaintance, a friend is someone you trust.  Sometimes with your life.  My friendship is not lightly given.  I refer to my friends as my friemily, yes, as a matter of fact, I did invent that word!  They are my tribe.  I feel as at home with them as I feel in my own nest.  There is a little house in my old neighborhood where many a cup of Cuban coffe has been consumed, conversations shared, tears and laughter.  I do not visit often, but going there is like going home.  A visit there refreshes my soul.


This morning I woke up with every intention of going to the funeral of my friend's grandson.  But my panic issues are still, well, issues.  Lately "snargles" have been looming, hovering at the very edge of my soul, they tend to kick in when I am feeling happy.  So I guess, in an odd way, they are a good thing because they start to threaten when I am feeling good, happy.  I still grapple at times with the fear that if I admit I am happy, it will be taken away.  Being in crowded places sets them off big-time.  I know the church must have been overflowing and did not want to risk creating a scene at my friend's church.  I am sure she would not appreciate my running out of the church, gasping for breath, crying.  Panic attacks are sheer hell.  So, instead, I will go visit her another weekend, taking a homemade carrot cake or a batch of freshly-baked brownies and we will sit and talk and remember.  I would give anything to be back in the barbecue days, seeing those two little boys running around like little maniacs, yelling at the top of their lungs.  Innocent and free.  I had just left my teens then, barely 20.  It seems like another world.  Actually, it was.

I wish I could give the children of my friend's cousin their Dad back.  Losing my Dad when I was 41 was hell, I can't even imagine losing him while still a child.  When I dream with my parents, part of me knows it is a dream and part of me does not want to wake up.  It has been 15 years since my Dad and 18 years since my Mom.  Still feels like yesterday and on days like today, oh, how I wish they were still here to talk with.

My Fabulous Fleaing Fairy GodMother and I talked on the phone early this morning, hearing her voice always puts a smile on my face. Our visits are like Christmas because there are always fabulous finds to exchange, news to catch up on, photos to take (although invariably I will forget my camera), intelligent verbosities abound.  Then J., one of my friends who lives in Tallahassee called.  I have two friends in Talley, love them both dearly.  We keep in touch via email, photos and phone calls.  And, somehow, whenever I am particularly blue or just off-kilter a bit, when the snargles loom, one or the other, or sometimes both, will call.  And the world seems a lot better after one of our phone visits.  After talking with my Talley friend, I checked my email and there was an email from my most Fabulous Magical Fairy GodMother, She Who Dwells in Atlanta In a Most Enchanted Castle. I have a fabulous set of Fairy GodMothers, they are three marvelous, brilliant, creative, brave, funny, true souls.  Just thinking of them makes me smile. Later I called a friend who lives nearby to ask if I could take pictures of her roosters for some illustrations I have been asked to do.  I read through my journal, finding a quote from J., who upon losing a dear friend wrote "I don't understand why God took such a super nice person home at such an early age, but I trust God to never be early, never be late and never hurt His children."  That always reminds of the saying that goes something like "We only see bits and pieces, God sees the whole picture."  Which always makes me feel better, because it tells me that what is happening may not make sense to me, but somehow, somewhere it does, or it will and the end result will be grand.  The blues lifted and now I am raring to create.  My friemily always makes me smile, inspires me and gives me hope for the world.  Sometimes the smallest gesture can make a huge difference in someone's day, life.  Watching Deepak Chopra and Oprah the other day, one of them said that whatever gesture, whatever words, you choose to make or say, every action you take affects a myriad of people.  You just don't necessarily know who or how, but there is an effect.  I really have to remember that.  I try to keep my words kind.  Try to help those I can, be they two-legged, or four.  Once I got into a bit of an argument with someone who made a rude remark about my feeding two homeless cats that hang around where I live.  They said I was feeding "vermin."  That bothered me.  I snapped at them, saying as long as I am able I will not let anyone, any creature, go hungry or thirsty.  I will offer shelter, food and water, it is the least one can do.  If you can ease another's suffering, why not?  It is the right thing to do, at least that is what I believe. Do the right thing is something I really try to live by. That is why I try to always open the door when the Jehovah's Witnesses knock on my door.  I may not agree with some of their tenets, but my sister is part of them and I dislike the idea of her knocking on strangers' doors and people being unkind to her.  She tells me they are trained to deal with that type of situation, still I do not like the idea of someone being rude to her.  So I open the door, listen to them and offer them water and a chance to rest.  After all, aren't we all our brother's keeper?  How can I say I am a Christian and slam the door in someone's face just because they do not subscribe to my particular beliefs?  Well, actually, I try to avoid saying I am a Christian because that label is so misused these days.  Same as I don't like it when people tell me they think of me as "religious."  Really dislike that term.  I am me.  Period.  I am not "religious."  But my faith in God is unshakeable.  I can be the most irreverent person ever, trust me.  Just ask any priest who has known me for any length of time. Please do not pigeonhole me.  For some things I am a liberal, for others a major conservative.  Oh, dear, I have rambled.

There are good-byes one doesn't want to say, but is forced to.  We know our time is limited, we just don't know what our limit is.  Life is too short to waste even one precious second being bitter or angry, those emotions accomplish nothing.  They say that butterflies are the symbol for transition, so for my friends who have lost loved ones this week, this butterfly is for you.  Wishing your loved ones a blessed transition into a beautiful, new world, free of pain.  A world where they are happy and safe, where they wait for us to join them.  I like to imagine my parents sitting on a bench by the seashore, watching a sunset, happy, knowing loved ones and dear friends are close by and one day I will come walking around the corner, home once more.

 

And for Pete's sake, if you are reading this, turn off the computer and go call someone, tell them you love them, hug a relative, a friend, a pet!  Create something, carpe diem!  As for me, I am off to sketch, have a brand-spanking new set of watercolor pencils and watercolor pad and they are calling my name, loudly.  It's the weekend, no bedtime!  Woo to the hoo!

Until next time, be well, be blessed, be loved.