Without Saying Goodbye

I remember reading somewhere that the loss of a loved one is the first time in our lives that we begin to know what it is to miss someone. Only after we experience the absence of a person do we fully realize how much they filled our lives. When I was nine, I lost my father. At that age, I was not fully aware of how much his passing affected my life. As life continued, I began to accept the natural order of life events: birth, living, death and missing. While some find comfort in the promise of seeing those who have gone before us someday, we must still daily live with the pain of those absent from our lives.

Recently, a friend made me aware of the importance of living in the moment. This friend was not a childhood companion nor a school chum. She became my friend by accident, and I was granted the privilege to know her, hear her stories and break bread with her on Thursday nights in the warm months of the year. Little did I realize that these occasions were not to be taken for granted. I guessed that these enjoyable times would continue indefinitely. So many times, we as humans do not realize that life is a short gift of which we must make the most. I am guilty of trying to think of life and those important to us as a given. Today I want to express my gratitude for lessons learned from a friend:

Lesson One—make life more beautiful than we find it. My friend ritually planted her environment with flowers. She shared her knowledge of plants with family and friends. I remember a story of how she recommended hollyhocks to a new neighbor because the flower would enhance a front yard dramatically. Another time, she told of the pleasure of helping her daughter with the landscaping at a new home. Faithfully, every year no matter how illness was slowing her down, she maintained her ritual of gardening and planting. She found joy in the simple beauty of life.

Lesson Two—share a laugh with those around us. My

friend valued every person who found themselves in

her presence. She shared the stories of her childhood, the people of her small town, and the events of her life. If one would listen closely, she was instructing listeners that perspective is the important part of retelling. I do not recall her complaining of life's disappointments nor the unfulfilled dreams of her life. Truly, I believe she was leading by example. If a person has to mention or complain, make the experience funny.

Lesson Three—cherish the living. In the recent years, she made sure to spend time with her family: husband, daughter, grandsons and son-in-law. Even though the chill of winter stiffened her bones, she made sure to return to the colder season for the holidays. During these times, we would gather as friends to break bread together. In addition, she would meet for breakfast at the small restaurants with her husband and friends, of which my husband was one. At other times, she would enjoy repast with her lunch bunch or the morning diners. Everyone in her group from fellow customer to staff listened to the stories of antique finds or shopping trips or a funny story she had heard.

Lesson Four—spread kindness. I will not divulge the many charitable acts that she performed anonymously. She did not want to spoil the simple joy of giving by making her contribution known. She believed that a gift was meant for the recipient, and a thank you only embarrassed her. Everyone was welcome at her table. She did not recognize unknowns to treat them as strangers. They were her fellow travelers on this journey.

Lesson Five—be honest. My friend was not one to mince words. If someone earned her dislike, she did not pretend otherwise. As my life partner often admired, she was not a hypocrite; she was real. If you were her friend, she felt compassion for your trials and short comings. She accepted human frailty for what it is, a characteristic of human imperfection.


Lesson Six—Face life with courage. Though ill, she confronted her body changes with grace. Occasionally, she might mention a new condition, but she did not bemoan her destiny. She bravely stared at these physical limitations with humor. She learned to adapt to new situations. When her eyesight blurred, she enjoyed listening to books on tape. She made an effort to carry on her daily tasks in spite of diminishing stamina.

Lesson Seven—Live each day to its fullest. Celebrate your friendships and friends. Share the time we have on this earth with those we love. Laugh loudly. Care about those we love. Accept aging gracefully, but never give up the battle.

Dearest Friend,

I wish I had known what a place you held in my heart before you left. Thank you for showing and reminding me how short this life is. Since you left so suddenly, today I finish my phone calls to family and friends with “I love you” because your departure denied me the opportunity. Accumulating candles on the cake does not mean we lose our ability to enjoy life or others, only the chance to singe our hair.

God hold you in his hands, Marian.