Friends

I've hear people say that they have many acquaintances but few friends. I never understood that. I have few acquaintances but many friends. If I've met you, chances are I consider you my friend unless you prove to me otherwise. And if you are my friend, you are my friend for life. Some people don't realize until it is too late how many friends they really have. I am not one of them. I count my friends as blessings and they are beyond count.
When Lee got sick, or rather, progressively sicker, our friends gathered round like covered wagons circling and protecting us. When Lee died, I was enveloped and sustained on a cloud of friendship. I was making a new normal, always with friends at the ready to support me should I slip. I was doing OK. I was trying new things. Then--BAM--out of nowhere--well, not really nowhere, more like my pelvic cavity--came the word cancer. I've walked that road with other friends, lost many friends, but never expected to have it applied to me as anything other than my astrological sign. Even now, three and a half months later, I still sometimes say "I have WHAT?"
Ultimately, it is a journey I have to take alone. I'm the one getting the chemo, I'll be the one getting the radiation, I'm the one who lost the hair (and I'm the one who gets the fun of the CP's). I'm the one all this is happening to, but my friends would be under my skin experiencing it with me if it were possible. They check up on me, they pray for me, they nudge me when necessary, they let me know I am not alone in this lonely place. They let me weep and they dry my tears. There is no shame in weeping.
Even as a little girl (and yes, I really was a little girl at one time--sturdy, but a little girl all the same), I always had at least one really good friend. In Junior High School, that all changed. I had a group of friends. And now, almost a million years later, I still have most of that group. Kris, Roz, Annie, and I just about go back to the flood. Our lives have taken surprising twists. I don't imagine any of us are doing what we thought we would be doing back in the 9th grade when we were terrorizing Mr. Felker (he loved it), but we're still friends. Kris just happened to e-mail me just after I started my first tenure at Peninsula Hospital. Thanks to my Nokia 9300, I e-mailed her back. Next thing I knew, she had plane and hotel reservations and was up checking on me. When she walked into that hospital room, it was 1962 again. I had never seen anyone so beautiful. The next day, she hooked up with Roz and brought her over to visit. Annie called from Missouri. They are still calling and checking on me. They know when I'm down and when I need them. Roz is a poet and expresses herself in amazing ways. I'm just beginning to realize it. Kris wants her to publish--I do too. Dear friends, if you are reading this, I still love you with the passion of a 14-year-old and the experience of a 60-year old, and I hope we're still talking about Mabel's diamond when we are 100.
Last night, I had a visit from relatively new (for me) friends. Steve, from work, brought his dog, whose name is supposed to be Beau but I've called Furball from the first time I met him. Steve hired me when I thought I had no skills outside of knowing everything there was to know about telephone bills, and over almost six years now has come to be a special person in my life. I frequently remind him that I'm old enough to have been his babysitter (I wasn't but could have been). I've always been afraid of dogs to some degree or another, but Furball is just a big love bug. Furball knows when I'm down and makes me feel better. So thank you, Steve and Furball, for the visit and the friendship.
Now if I haven't named you specifically, it doesn't mean that you aren't still my friend and I don't love and care about you and don't consider you a vital part of the mosaic of my life. Here's the other thing about my friends. I don't let them go. No matter the distance or the time, I will remember you and care about you--possibly remember your birthday and your children and their birthdays--and count you as an important foundation of my life and a blessing beyond measure. If I haven't told you lately, I love you.