When I was in junior high, my best friend, Aimee, lived across the street. Aimee was 17 months older than me and two grades ahead in school. Why on earth she ever bothered to hang out with a dorky girl two grades behind her is (and was) beyond me. But when we weren't in school, we spent all our free time together. We had a lot of fun, and she was really good at being a friend.
She once made me a framed photo collage made of a photo of us together mounted on a piece of construction paper with all these cool friendship phrases clipped from magazines in various fonts glued around it. You could probably make something much nicer-looking much faster using Photoshop these days, but to this day, it is probably the best gift I have ever gotten from a friend because it was created with so much heart and personality.
When she was in 8th grade, she had an English assignment for a poetry unit where she had to take a popular song and add pictures to it. She had a sister who was about 4 at the time, and the two of us went around the neighborhood with Elizabeth and her little friend, posed them in various photo ops to coordinate with the song, and took pictures. She then created a slideshow (using actual slides and a cassette tape recorder—again, technology was far behind where it is now) to the Carole King version of the classic "You've Got a Friend." To this day, pictures from that slideshow pop into my head every time I hear that song. Two years later, I had the same assignment, but I have no idea what I did for it because it was not nearly as cool or as much fun to create.
At some point during our friendship, we decided that if our parents were friends, we could spend even more time together. So we arranged a dinner party for the four of them where we cooked and served everything and just let the grown-ups have time to visit and get to know one another. It worked like a charm! That was the beginning of a friendship among our parents and several other neighbors that endured for over 20 years. In fact, I believe (although I'm not certain) that my mom still has some Christmas card-type contact with Aimee's parents.
We shared clothing crises, Halloween costumes, the birth of MTV, first kisses, first dates, break-ups, dreams, wishes, tears, slumber parties, TP'ing of boys' houses, and fights with our parents for several years, but Aimee's and my friendship did not endure nearly as long as that of our parents. Being two grades older, she was often allowed to do things that I wasn't. One thing that readily comes to mind is attending school dances. When she was in 9th grade and I in 7th, she invited me to attend a high school dance with her. I desperately wanted to go, but my parents decided that I should wait until high school to experience high school dances. As the mother of a 6th grade daughter now, I fully understand and concur with the wisdom of my parents' decision. But at the time, it felt like the end of the world! I was often jealous of Aimee's ability to do these kinds of things. At some point, she possibly got tired of hanging out with someone so much younger and probably much less mature. I don't really know what happened, but we had a huge fight during the summer between my 8th and 9th grade years. Try as I might, I cannot for the life of me remember what it was about.
Later in that school year, Aimee's dad was transferred to Colorado, and that was pretty much the end of our friendship. Eventually, he transferred back, and our parents—never really having lost touch—picked up where they left off with their friendship. My dad died shortly after their return to Texas, and it was Aimee's mom who took my little brother to her own son's pediatrician when he had an asthma attack in the middle all the chaos. That pediatrician was so good that he eventually became the first pediatrician I took my own kids to. I was invited to Aimee's engagement party with my mom around that time, and then later to her wedding in New Orleans. But it was more of a family courtesy than an act of friendship—I barely saw or spoke to her at either event. In fact, I'm embarrassed to admit, I was having so much fun in New Orleans that I actually missed the wedding ceremony itself! (My mom did attend. In all honesty, I was 21, in New Orleans for the first time, and with my boyfriend. By the time of the wedding, I was not in any kind of shape to step foot into a church!)
That was nearly 20 years ago. Two years later, I married the man I had so much fun with that I missed an entire wedding (who wouldn't marry a guy like that?). We've had three kids plus many other adventures, including last May's 40th birthday trip to New Orleans that topped the missed-wedding trip by a mile! Aimee and her husband divorced a few years later. She eventually remarried and had kids of her own. I know these things about her through our parents, but I don't know anything more.
A few months back, in a moment of sentimentality, I decided to search for her on Facebook. She popped right up, and I sent a friend request without giving it much thought. It's been over 25 years since our fight, and I can't even remember what it was about, after all. I do remember that at one time she was the closest friend I had. So I thought I'd go for it.
Apparently, she does remember our fight. Or maybe she just remembers that she doesn't much care for me anymore. Whatever the reason, she has never accepted my Facebook friendship request. I know she is active on Facebook because having a friendship request pending is enough to allow me to see some of her activities: "Aimee and ___________ are now friends." "Aimee has joined the group _________." Because of the spelling of her first name, every time I go into my Friends List, she's right there on top, almost-friend #1. This distresses me because it reminds me every time I see it that I once screwed up a friendship that was important to me, and that although I've pretty much forgiven and definitely forgotten, she apparently hasn't.
Facebook offers a "Remove Request" option, but it will not allow me to use it. Whenever I click it, it tells me I'm denied access. Not sure what I'm denied access to. A former friendship, for sure, but I don't think that's what Facebook is getting at. How I can be denied access to remove a request that I made and she's not interested in is beyond me, but it is what it is. That "Friendship Request Pending" status stares at me whenever I look at my Friends List.
So today I am thankful for my former friend Aimee. First and foremost, I'm thankful for all the fun memories I have from my junior high years that include her. Those years are awkward and difficult at best, but nearly every fun memory I have of those times includes her. But I'm also thankful for her because without having any knowledge of it, she reminds me regularly to cherish the friendships I have and treat them with care. Because no matter what slight a friend might seem to throw at you today, tomorrow you might look back with great fondness on that friend and wish you could catch up for a little while.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Death Watch
This week has been a death watch. Not the most pleasant topic, perhaps, but there you have it. I feel like everywhere I turn, someone I know is waiting for someone they love to die. It is a part of life after all.
My husband's grandmother is the one closest to us. She is in her 90's, has recently been diagnosed with lung cancer, and her body is shutting down. In full renal failure, it is only a matter of days. Thomas and his father are trying to get to New Jersey to see her before she passes, but the weather (full-force blizzards, the likes of which have not been seen in more than a decade) is not cooperating. I only pray that they make it before she goes. She, however, seems at peace. She is coherent and comfortable and ready to go be with her husband, who passed more than 15 years ago, and her Lord. While she will be missed greatly, her time has come, and it is OK. All in all, not a bad way to go--after a long life, ready to go on to what comes next, with little pain, and with a few days' notice to say your good-byes.
A friend in Illinois is waiting for her estranged mother to pass. She has good reasons for being estranged from her mother, and she is at peace with her decision to remain that way even now. But she is trying to be there for her siblings, and it is causing her emotional stress. So I pray for her that her mother's time comes quickly and peacefully so that my friend might get on with her life.
Then there is the most heartbreaking death watch. A total stranger. I have never met her or her family, nor is it likely that I ever will. She is a neighbor of a friend of my sister's, and I only know of her through technology--blog posts on Facebook. A two-year-old baby, Layla Grace, with neuroblastoma. Her family has prayed for a miracle and asked others to do so as well, but they will not get the miracle they have hoped for. I believe they have already received their miracle, but of course they won't be able to recognize that for some time to come. At this time, Layla's body is shutting down, and her family is waiting, knowing that the end is very near and their baby girl will soon be whole and healthy and pain-free again--but not with them.
Why is this death, the death of someone I will never know, the hardest to take? Because she is a child. Because, as a parent, I can imagine the pain her own parents must be experiencing. I can imagine it, but I do not know it, and I hope I never will. Just the thought of the pain of losing a child is crushing, almost beyond bearing. Actually experiencing it must be nearly intolerable. My own father died over 20 years ago, at the age of 43. This was, of course, difficult for the whole family. But time heals and life marches forward. However, my grandmother, his mother, has never fully recovered from this loss, even though he was a grown man when cancer took him. Parents aren't meant to bury their children, no matter how old those children are when they are buried.
And yet life goes on. Even now, I look out my window at cold rain. Dreary, yes, but it is preparing the ground for spring that is around the corner, giving nourishment to the plants that are dormant and soaking it up for a few weeks from now when they will burst forth with life anew. Some of my plants will probably not make it back from this rather harsh winter, but most of them will. The cycle of life.
And human life goes on. My youngest sister recently announced that she is expecting her first child. My first niece or nephew in over 13 years. I am so excited that I think of it every single day, several times a day, even though my sister lives halfway across the country in Los Angeles. I am easily as excited about this new niece or nephew as I was about my own pregnancies (perhaps more so--there's no puking involved this time, at least not for me!). And my brother is about to get married to a girl our whole family adores. Showers, parties, wedding festivities and plans, and loads of out-of-town relatives we haven't seen in too many years! Not to mention my hot husband, the best man, in a tuxedo! I can't wait!
Even in sad times, there is much to look forward to. That is the way of life, and I am thankful for it. Today I am thankful to be alive. And I must paraphrase from a friend's earlier Facebook status because it is fitting for me today in ways she could never have known when she posted it:
"This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it." Even though it is cold and raining and has been for days and days. Because the sun will shine again...soon.
My husband's grandmother is the one closest to us. She is in her 90's, has recently been diagnosed with lung cancer, and her body is shutting down. In full renal failure, it is only a matter of days. Thomas and his father are trying to get to New Jersey to see her before she passes, but the weather (full-force blizzards, the likes of which have not been seen in more than a decade) is not cooperating. I only pray that they make it before she goes. She, however, seems at peace. She is coherent and comfortable and ready to go be with her husband, who passed more than 15 years ago, and her Lord. While she will be missed greatly, her time has come, and it is OK. All in all, not a bad way to go--after a long life, ready to go on to what comes next, with little pain, and with a few days' notice to say your good-byes.
A friend in Illinois is waiting for her estranged mother to pass. She has good reasons for being estranged from her mother, and she is at peace with her decision to remain that way even now. But she is trying to be there for her siblings, and it is causing her emotional stress. So I pray for her that her mother's time comes quickly and peacefully so that my friend might get on with her life.
Then there is the most heartbreaking death watch. A total stranger. I have never met her or her family, nor is it likely that I ever will. She is a neighbor of a friend of my sister's, and I only know of her through technology--blog posts on Facebook. A two-year-old baby, Layla Grace, with neuroblastoma. Her family has prayed for a miracle and asked others to do so as well, but they will not get the miracle they have hoped for. I believe they have already received their miracle, but of course they won't be able to recognize that for some time to come. At this time, Layla's body is shutting down, and her family is waiting, knowing that the end is very near and their baby girl will soon be whole and healthy and pain-free again--but not with them.
Why is this death, the death of someone I will never know, the hardest to take? Because she is a child. Because, as a parent, I can imagine the pain her own parents must be experiencing. I can imagine it, but I do not know it, and I hope I never will. Just the thought of the pain of losing a child is crushing, almost beyond bearing. Actually experiencing it must be nearly intolerable. My own father died over 20 years ago, at the age of 43. This was, of course, difficult for the whole family. But time heals and life marches forward. However, my grandmother, his mother, has never fully recovered from this loss, even though he was a grown man when cancer took him. Parents aren't meant to bury their children, no matter how old those children are when they are buried.
And yet life goes on. Even now, I look out my window at cold rain. Dreary, yes, but it is preparing the ground for spring that is around the corner, giving nourishment to the plants that are dormant and soaking it up for a few weeks from now when they will burst forth with life anew. Some of my plants will probably not make it back from this rather harsh winter, but most of them will. The cycle of life.
And human life goes on. My youngest sister recently announced that she is expecting her first child. My first niece or nephew in over 13 years. I am so excited that I think of it every single day, several times a day, even though my sister lives halfway across the country in Los Angeles. I am easily as excited about this new niece or nephew as I was about my own pregnancies (perhaps more so--there's no puking involved this time, at least not for me!). And my brother is about to get married to a girl our whole family adores. Showers, parties, wedding festivities and plans, and loads of out-of-town relatives we haven't seen in too many years! Not to mention my hot husband, the best man, in a tuxedo! I can't wait!
Even in sad times, there is much to look forward to. That is the way of life, and I am thankful for it. Today I am thankful to be alive. And I must paraphrase from a friend's earlier Facebook status because it is fitting for me today in ways she could never have known when she posted it:
"This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it." Even though it is cold and raining and has been for days and days. Because the sun will shine again...soon.
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