Two Years and I Still Miss Her

Friends

“The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said and never explained …

I remember how warm it was on March 26, two years ago. I stood in the yard of Linda’s parents house. I was anxious to see her, but not her mom, dad and siblings. The final year of her life had not been easy on her. Or any of us for that matter. She had cancer, and had left all of us to live with her parents. Her daughter Claire, and my son Adam, met me in the front yard. We shared hugs and a few words. I hugged Linda’s daughter Ally Girl too. David, Linda’s husband, met me at the door. We chatted as I walked through the foyer  into the living room. Then I saw her, surrounded by her sister and mother. My dear friend was lying in a hospital bed in the living room, dying. We hadn’t spoken to each other in months. Now all I could do was hold her hand and weep.

Tears streamed down my face, and I could barely speak for the lump in my throat. I kept talking to her all the same. Kept crying. The funny thing was, not one of her siblings or parents offered a word of comfort to me. Her children, Ally and Clair did, and no one else. They stood idly by and let me bawl. That proved what kind of people they were-cold. I laid my head next to hers and let the tears dampen her pillow. I listened to her labored breathing and knew it was only a matter of time before she expired. I leaned up on my elbow and stroked her blonde hair. We were sisters once. BFFs. Swim Mommas. I was hoping some day we’d be connected when and if our children got married.

I watched Ally administer medicine and speak to Linda like she wasn’t dying. She carried on the one-sided conversation and stated that she was learning to be a caregiver.  Adam and Claire played cards on the couch. All they wanted was to be normal. Adam Boy had lost his grandmother, my mother-in-law to cancer a few years earlier. He knew the importance of chilling out and letting nature take it’s course. We were met with opposition to our loud voices, and boisterous laughter. We tuned it out though.

I know it’s been two years since Linda died, and the hole in my heart doesn’t ache nearly as bad as it did. I find I’m filling it with more love for the friends that are still with me. Claire and Adam are still together. Ally and Alex are getting married this summer. She and my Meggie are still the best of friends. David found a new love and married her. It just goes to show you, time marches on. Whether we want it to or not. I do miss Linda though, and whenever spring rolls around my thoughts always turn to her.

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A Split Apart

My Muse

I gazed at the photograph of her and knew Curt her husband, took it. He likes to capture her at moments when she is most herself. I remarked that she was beauty. Right there, in the simple shot of her glowing and thoughtful face.

Blue eyed.

Blonde haired.

Serene, yet the wheels are turning.

She flits from one thing to another.

Her heart is large.

Her vocabulary stellar.

She is mighty with the written word.

The spoken word.

She is an artist.

Everything she sees, she sees potential in.

She found beauty in me. In my heart.

We didn’t speak to each other for 30 years.

Audibly anyway.

Our words made us friends, sisters, split aparts.

Our souls intertwined.

She gave me confidence.

She gave me strength by loving me.

Her photos inspire me to write.

She inspires me.

We will love each other.

Till one of us expires.

Even then, when we are on that other vibration.

We will watch over one another.

The first photo prompt I ever wrote a story for was hers. I titled it West Virginia in the Summer Time. It wasn’t viewed by many bloggers. But it was one of my favorite stories. Fiction. Something I was new at writing. The journal entries were getting old. I needed something more. Tracy provided that. She still does. Words flow through me whenever I peruse her photo albums.

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