Showers are a great place to think because you don't have the distraction of TV or pets or text or Facebook. It's also a place for reality to overcome you.
It was in the shower, nearly 24 hours after learning of my friends death that I finally succumbed to reality. She's gone. My dear, sweet, precious friend with a contagious love for life, quirky personality and rock solid faith is gone. The humorous quips, notable grins and "What's up?" texts all gone with her.
Through and through, I'm a realist. I'm not a daydreamer and usually have a firm grasp on potential outcomes. But this happened so fast that I didn't have time to really wrap my head around it. The last time I saw her was a couple days before we moved. She was laughing and as healthy as any cancer patient can be. She hugged me goodbye and I never dreamed that would be our last.
Even though we knew the end was coming over a week ago, my heart wouldn't let me accept it. There was still time. Time for her body to gain strength. Time for doctors to try something new. Time for a miracle. We had discussed going back home over Memorial Day weekend and my intention was to see her. My heart was set on this not being the end, even though I knew better. While friends began referring to her in past tense, I refused. My friend was still very much alive and I refused to go there.
Last week as I began praying that she would make it past Mother's Day for the sake of her children, I still held onto hope for a miracle. The miracle would have been having her make it until then.
Fitting for her quirky personality, nobody can quite figure out if she passed away Saturday or Sunday. I imagine her up in heaven laughing that nobody can get it right or that it even matters. She'd really have a fit over all the fussing about and with her.
I first met Debbie during Wednesday night meals at our first church. My husband and I often say alone at a huge table. Debbie would often drop her kids off to eat at our table and take off to eat with friends. So, I really got to know her kids first. Honestly, neither of us liked that but never said anything. Over the next few years, it still happened occasionally.
About five years ago, I started going to a bible study with her. It took some time to get to know her. She was reserved and had a scowl a lot. But then we both got involved with this wonderful bunco group. A group of 15-20 ladies who became a family to me. Through that, I got to know Debbie much better.
She would help occasionally with rides to the store or church or social functions. She didn't live far from me, so it was convenient. The more we were around each other, the more we learned. We learned we had anxiety in common. Neither of us took meds for it. She never took meds because a diagnosis and meds could mean the end of her flight training.
We also shared screwed up brothers. I won't go into details about hers, but he's every bit as jacked up as my brothers. It gave us ways to pray for each other.
Once she was diagnosed, we became closer. It was easy to serve her and get more involved in her life. We were close until 600 miles separated us.
As it hit me in the shower today, I realized that all I have now are memories and a hope they will not soon fade.
I know God has a plan. It's greater than I can fathom. What I can see is only enough to illicit anger and confusion as our plans seem better. This is where the battle of good versus evil takes a supreme toll on my thoughts and heart. This woman was good. She was loved. It's evidenced by the numerous family members and friends who are deeply grieving. She had two young children. Why does this happen to someone like that, when evil people live on? I've lived a much more wretched life than her. My parents. Murders. Rapists. Why her over so many others?
I had a very religious friend say to me, this was Gods plan for her life. He needed her to die so that He could accomplish something greater. Wow! Not sure if go that far. Yes, I do believe He can and will use this death for His glory. However, I don't think He caused it for His glory.
I like what my husband said last week to me. I had a day when I couldn't hold back the tears and sadness and weight of what was happening. He didn't want to simplify it too much for me because he knew that would only make it worse. However, his simple explanation was so profound and beautiful. He said that the world and disease had broken her down so much, that God said it was almost time to heal her.
As I sit here in my heartache, I know he's right. I'm thankful he's right. The day I prayed for since my friend was diagnosed with colon cancer is finally here. The Lord has chosen to heal her and make her whole again. She is rejoicing with her Savior.
When she was diagnosed, many of her friends fretted over prognosis and treatments and staging. Not her, not on the outside anyways. Her biggest concern was not losing her hair. She was always cold and was certain being bald would make her freeze even more. She also didn't want her kids to see her without hair. While her hair thinned, she never went bald. I have to believe that was one of the many ways the Lord showed His goodness to her.
So now we plan and try to figure out how to make the long trip home. It's an unexpected one with poor personal timing for us. I can't imagine not being there though. I can't imagine not being with friends as we all say goodbye to our beloved friend. I can't imagine not hugging the necks of the many people who hold onto the same hope and faith that we will one day see her again.
No comments:
Post a Comment