And now her watch has ended

My friend Lori died last week.  Friday I believe.  I sent her a text Thursday night sharing how disgusted I am with myself, not fitting into my clothes and then apologized for my self involved comments and asked her what was the latest with her, how is she feeling, what’s going on?  I commented to my friend Janice the next day that she hadn’t responded and I wondered if I was just so insensitive with my own “fat” comments.  Janice reminded me that I should understand the dying process from my hospice work which I shared with her that I absolutely did not remember that part of my training.  Like a lot of life’s lessons I had no frame of reference, until now.

In my hospice volunteer role I would enter someone’s life at the very end.  A few of my patient’s (makes me sound like a doctor) were quite alert when I met them (still surprising me when they died even though I KNEW what being in hospice meant) but the majority of patients I visited were moments away from dying.  Mostly unconscious or very near there.  Sure there were conversations with the alert ones, many times, most times, talking about their families but I was there at the end, I was in the circle at the end.  Janice reminded me that a person’s world, as they are actively dying, becomes like a funnel with the circle of friends large at first and nearer the end it gets smaller and smaller until, well, until it’s over.

I was in Lori’s near-to-the-end funnel circle.  We didn’t know it was near the end at the time.  Sure I had my suspicions but early on I was totally sure, as was she, that she would beat this whole cancer thing.  She had been on top of it for awhile and had lived with the C word, unaffected, for apparently years…off and on.  We did talk about our fears about dying – but you know, we were friends from college.  When you’re in college you talk about everything.  I told her it must be all those drunken nights sleeping in each other’s rooms.  Freshman year, when you leave home for the first time and then thrown into this scenario with like 12 other girls and it’s like a slumber party EVERY night; how can you avoid bonding…well other than my roommate who moved out cause she hated me.  (It’s a long story)

Anyway, Lori and I talked about lots of stuff and at that point, in Richmond, all we had was each other as far as friend’s go.  She had moved there from Texas leaving a hoard of friends behind to be near her daughter and grandson…I had moved from Pittsburgh, via Palm Harbor, leaving friends and family behind.  We had each other.  Old friends, renewed, not missing a beat from our slumber party conversations.  I have realized she was put in my path to help me through a difficult time.  That’s how much of a God-send she was to me at that point in my life.

Shortly after Christmas, we met for lunch, and the way she suggested the lunch I knew something was up.  We talked about everything that day, except what she wanted to tell me.  But after we got through our different stories over our dogs dying, sobbing over that, I said “well, what’s up?”  I didn’t really want to know because I already thought I knew, but of course I did want to know.  It was after we were exhausted crying over the dogs, she told me the cancer had moved to her liver.  I remember just staring…with this like WTF look on my face.  At that point I reminded her that she was my ONLY friend in that area and if she liked me at all she would beat this for my sake.  We laughed, but I wasn’t kidding. Well, you know…I was…kidding…sort of.

I’ve had other friends with cancer, actually the number has been growing since my first friend shared her diagnosis with me 12 (or 13) years ago.  Every one of my close friends who have had that diagnosis is still living.  Until now.

After Christmas Lori got busy with various doctors appointments, got sicker with treatment, and just started feeling bad. At no time did she ever give me the impression that she was giving up or thought it was unbeatable, it was just a matter of time until the doctors figured it out.  They promised her.  Maybe they didn’t promise her but that’s how I remember it.

By the time I had gotten the job offer in Florida she had already started withdrawing, pulling away.  She really didn’t want to talk about it I’m sure because she wasn’t getting better.  It wasn’t in her nature to be negative so I can understand her not wanting to talk about it because also that might be admitting it.  I really don’t know, I’m just making excuses to make myself feel better.  It could have been she just hated me and didn’t want to see me anymore.  But I jest, we did spend two very nice days together before I left and both wished for more time.

I felt guilty about leaving her, but she had already started to withdraw and I didn’t feel like I had an employment choice and well we had planned on her getting better.  Once I got here we talked about when she would visit and places we would go to.  My last text from her was May 25.

She had promised she would fill me in with all the details but never did so when I sent the text on Thursday complaining about my weight and wondering what’s up with her, as if we talked yesterday, I figured maybe I’d finally get a response out of her.  But she died…the next day.  Guess she didn’t have a chance to answer my text.

I am sad. I am very very sad.  And kinda mad.  I’m a little mad that we reconnected so close to the end of her life and that I got to be so close to her, making it so hard now.  And I’m sad/mad that I didn’t make the smaller funnel area of the end.  She had a best friend that came and stayed with her nearer the end. It was that friend that got to share those last moments with her.  I understand now why people say it’s an honor.  I will never take that part I play in hospice for granted again.

Even though I’m not doing hospice work at the moment this experience is really going to add to my understanding of the dying experience.  It also puts a bigger picture on the “friend” experience.  I mean really, don’t you think about friends that come and go in your life?  And friends that come and go and come again?  Facebook helps with that.  Actually it was Facebook where Lori saw me posting pictures from my mom’s in Richmond that brought us back together. (Facebook does have some good qualities) And as for Lori and I, after 35 years (but who’s counting) we picked up where we left off, if only for a very short time.  But for both of us, for very different reasons, very very important times in our lives.

I am honored to have been there near the end, even though for awhile we didn’t know it was the end.  I know I left Richmond, and her life, when I was supposed to.  I know why she wasn’t texting..sort of…I wanted to be that end of life person for her but that wasn’t my role.  But I did have a role.  And she had a role in mine.  We all have roles to play and then we move on.  Some moving on are more permanent apparently.

Lori is my first close friend that has died.  Sure there was my dad, and Richard (he was like family) and I know I’m forgetting to mention others, but I have always been afraid of the day I would lose a close friend.  And now that day has come.  One good thing I think about is I finally have a good friend over there who I totally expect to be there to greet me.  Not that I expect to go anytime soon, but her being there somehow makes it less daunting for when it does finally  happen for me. She’s paved the way. She was such a good friend to me here I fully expect her to be a very good friend when I get there.  And I do totally believe in a there.

Until then I say prayers that she is adjusting well, that she has run into some old friends, that she is out of pain and that she knows that she can still be with her family from the other side.

But as for her earthly time, here in the 3^rd dimension…. her watch has ended*.  A life well lived and loved for sure.

xoxoxo

*Game of Thrones reference