Archives for September 2012

It still boggles my mind to think of – the fact that some of my closest friendships were born of a stroke of luck. How I followed someone on Twitter who suggested following his colleague who later chimed up when I said, “HEY I WANT TO WALK A MARATHON” by saying, “I’m doing the Avon Walk. Join us.”

And I did.

And I drove down to Chicago that first year and forty miles later it was like I’d known Debbie and Barbara forever. In a good way.

If you don’t know ’em, Barbara is the beauty on the left. Debbie is the beauty on the right. That’s me in the middle. You know my face.

Anyway.

Today is Barbara’s birthday.

I love birthdays because I think it’s important to acknowledge and celebrate the day someone was born – and when it’s a friend, it’s even more important. And when it’s a friend like Barbara? I couldn’t just SAY happy birthday because, man, I have words to say about her. (Also? I didn’t get a card in the mail in time because I suck a little bit.)

I have adored them both since we met, but as each year passes, the closer we become. I’m grateful that Barbara and Debbie have taken me in. They have been friends for quite some time and expanded their circle to fit me. To spend time around either of them is a blessing – especially because both Barbara and Debbie are some of the kindest people you’ll have the luck to meet ever. They have been some of my biggest supporters over the past few months and I smile when my phone buzzes with a text from either one.

Barbara – our birthday girl – is the kind of friend who will name a baby goat after you. When you tell her that this will be her high maintenance goat – she will text you back and assure you that no, this goat will be smart and funny. She will take pictures of the goat (the one you begged her to name after you) and post them on Facebook and tag you in them. And! It will make you insanely happy because DUH baby goat.

She is a breast cancer survivor who has logged MANY HUNDRED MILES walked and MANY THOUSAND DOLLARS RAISED and fights tirelessly to support the Avon Walk and increase awareness of this disease. When a friend of my family was diagnosed with breast cancer last year, Barbara offered to be available to the family so they could ask her questions or talk to her about her experiences. I admire her strength and her heart.

She is one of the many reasons why I will keep walking the Avon Walk until there’s a cure for breast cancer. Forty miles ain’t nothing but a thing with a team like ours. Sure, the blisters suck but the laughter? It’s good.

**

The other day, a text rattled my phone. It was Barbara. She and Debbie had spent the weekend together with their husbands and Debbie had sent me such a lovely text the day before. Barbara’s text to me said: Blood doesn’t make you family. Love does. You’re my family. Love you.

And I smiled. I was sitting at my desk at work having one of those days and her message could not have come at a better time.

Other things you may not know about Barbara:

She hates the word P-E-E (see, I spelled it out for you). She doesn’t eat sweets but she’ll eat cupcakes if my daughter makes them because she doesn’t want her to feel badly. She likes to dance with strangers along the Avon Walk course – even if the strangers are old women with whiskers. She’s the kind of person who will take your kid’s Flat Stanley for a week and then create this amazing story book all about Flat Stanley on the farm because your daughter loves animals. She’ll even get the pilot of her flight to pose for a picture with Flat Stanley. When your friends are struggling, she’ll call to make sure you know, to rally the troops so you can surround each other with love. She has gorgeous hair. Hell. She’s just gorgeous. She’ll have the refrigerator of your hotel room stocked with healthy snacks (and wine) when you arrive. It’s virtually impossible to not like her.

She has a heart that as big as hearts get.

She also is the reason I take pictures like that one up there.

(Barbara? Y-O-U-R Awesome)

She’ll know what it means.

**

As I typed this, I thought of the line in Stand by Me: “I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?”

There are certain friends from certain times in my life – my best friend, I met in 8th grade. Another close friend I met in science class on the first day of our freshman year of high school. I have friends I met in college that I still talk to.

But I really never anticipated that some of my closest friendships would be those that began after I turned 30. Some of these friendships are younger than a kindergartner but as much a part of my heart as any that have spanned over 20 years.

And I’m not sure why. And the thing is, I really don’t even need to know.

I’ve always surrounded myself with good people. My life is made better by these friendships.

And when you’re lucky enough to love and be loved by friends like I have, you need to be sure to let them know how much they’re appreciated.

A birthday is a good day to do that, don’t you think?

Happy Birthday, Barbara. In my head, this was far more eloquent and coherent and not such a rambly mess of goo, but sometimes I’m not eloquent or coherent, and sometimes I am goo, and somehow I think you’ll forgive me all of those things because I’ve spelled everything correctly.

I appreciate your support and your love and your friendship and your positivity and your joy and your support and your texts that make me laugh and your Sarah goat and your heart and your strength and your encouragement and your thoughtfulness and your pictures of animals and your perspective and your Debbie and your ability to distinguish between your and you’re.

YOUR ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE AND I’M SO GLAD YOUR ALWAYS THEIR FOR ME.

(Ouch. That hurt to type.)

Happy birthday. You are my family.

Love you.

I went to bed too late last night. I couldn’t fall asleep, my head was twirling, I was mentally writing to-do lists of things I needed to accomplish today. When I was still wide awake at one I thought about today, how I’d be sleepy, how this day would be difficult. I’d be tired.

I finally fell asleep sometime after 1 and woke up, inexplicably around 5:45 at which time I checked my phone and saw that Julie had passed away. My head has been twirling since.

I had prepared myself already for the gravity of the day – the anniversary of 9/11 always strikes me because it wasn’t until a few weeks after that awful day that I found out I was pregnant for The Princess. I must have been just days pregnant that day. I remember sitting at work in a cube farm, someone announcing that a plane had struck the World Trade Center, and I remember all of us standing in front of the televisions in the lunchroom for most of the day, watching it all happen, right in front of our eyes.

I sat on my porch with a candle. We took change to the donation stations for the Red Cross.

And last fall, I visited the Memorial in New York City, and I walked around reading the names. I wanted to touch them all, but couldn’t. I wanted to touch and read every single one of those names that surround the Memorial. I flinched each time I read the engraved “…and unborn child” descriptor after a woman’s name. I had never, until that moment, thought of that, I guess.

I knew today would be full of remembrance and never-forgetting, and yeah, I knew that would be tough, but I still had stuff to deal with today. I still would have to call the town where I live to talk about property taxes and I’d still go to work and do my job and yeah yeah yeah, 9/11 but that was 11 years ago and it wouldn’t affect me.

And then I saw the news about Julie.

Breast cancer.

I wish I could speak eloquently about it or about Julie – I feel I owe both topics more than the words I have can offer. She was vibrant and funny and a light. She was a dedicated mom.

And she was way too young.

It’s like a sucker punch when someone dies – and worse when they die so young. And you wish you could grab this disease by the shirt and shake it loose and tell it to back off, scare it into retreating, threaten it from ever touching anyone you know, anyone ever.

But you can’t.

And so this morning, I told The Princess about Julie – we’d had Frostys for Julie the other day, to send her hope and to follow her lead and to enjoy life – so my daughter knew about Julie, that Julie was fighting this ugly disease, cancer. And tears filled my eyes and my daughter put down her breakfast, and walked across the room to give me a hug and I thought to myself, “I’m so lucky to be here with my daughter’s arms wrapped around me, to be loved, for this moment.”

I stopped for coffee on my way to work – wanting to find some separation between the news and the rest of my day.

But I still feel helpless – because all over the place today there are people who are hurting and there’s nothing anyone could do to erase it or make it better. I read some of Julie’s writing this morning, rereading something she had written months ago about the children’s story “We’re Going on a Bear Hunt” and how thinking of that story was one of her strategies for coping with things that came her way. She said:

“Worry and panic and dread will swallow us up if we let it, for sure. I think most problems in life are relieved when we suck it up and deal, by doing whatever that process requires for us, for however long it takes. We can’t go over it or under it. We have to go through it.”

She also said, “Life isn’t fair, but it’s still wonderful.”

And it isn’t and it is.

My heart is heavy and I’m sitting at my desk.

This morning as I was getting out of my car, my sister pulled up next to me in the parking garage to say good morning. We work in the same building and I never see her. To see her smiling face was a boost today.

I’m not sure how you even close a post like this. If you all were here, I’d like to think that I’d wrap each one of you up in a hug and give you an extra tight squeeze and let you know you mean something to me. So that’s what I’m doing.

Close your eyes tight.

Wrap your arms around yourself.

Squeeze a bit.

There’s a hug from me.

Figured we could all use one today.

I am not a blogger who believes that just because I share some of my life with you who may be reading, that I am in fact required or at all obligated to share all of my life with you who may be reading. If anything, you should know if you don’t already that I am quite guarded and protective with myself and my life, and I keep a lot held in because there are limits to what I share.

I make no apologies for it, either.

I’ve made no secret of my stress and struggle over the past few months.

There was a time I spoke of my husband and my marriage here.

It’s been awhile.

We’ve separated. Papers have been filed.

**

Initially, I started writing a eulogy to the marriage thinking I’d post it here. Even in those early days, I knew that there would be no public post-mortem.

But there will be no eulogy.

Just this acknowledgement.

**

Life is different now and I move forward with hope. And while there are some very tough days, I think we will all be okay. My daughters are doing well. I have friends and family who have been amazing and comforting and have kept us busy.

Life is different.

But it goes on.