I don't believe anyone when they respond to "What's new?" with "Same old, same old." I don't believe in things staying the same anymore. I have never experienced so much change all at once, and I know more change is coming my way. I won't let myself be blindsided by the next big shift, but I have at least learned that you can barely prepare yourself when life (or death) throws you into a new direction.
It's been almost eight months, thirty-four weeks, and 237 days since my best friend left this earth. At first, I was so relieved for her. She stopped hurting, aching, and longing for her former self. I had spent months supporting her to let go if that was what she wanted, and most days, that was her wish. When the day finally arrived, together with her sisters, I held her hand until she took her last breath. It was peaceful, beautiful, and sad to watch her say her goodbyes, but also a huge relief. I cried watching her three children leave the house, knowing that was the end. I had an especially hard time watching her middle child stand by the door looking at me before she walked out. Not a word was shared between us, but I knew she was pleading for some kind of last-minute miracle that could steer the night away from the inevitable, and I looked back at her apologetically, wishing I had magic powers. I cannot unsee her face.
After my friend died, I did not anticipate how much I would long for her. I understood I would be sad, but I had no idea how final that last goodbye would feel until a few days later. Every time I wanted to ask her advice, or thought of something she might like, or picked up the phone to call her, I was reminded she was gone. It felt odd to have someone disappear even though it wasn't overnight. She was sick for a long time, but I could always sit next to her, even on days when she didn't feel like talking. Even on those days, she always had a sentence or two of important information she wanted to share. We talked every day. Every single day for years, until we couldn't. I started wondering where people go after they die. I still have no idea, but I will not stop wondering until I take my last breath too.
I wasn't particularly spiritual and into signs before, and I am not sure where I stand with it now, except that I feel her sometimes. I say hi to her every time I see a dandelion since I asked her the night she died to send me signs in dandelions and bright stars. I asked her to please not hit me in the head with anything, and she agreed. The day after she died, I took a walk and ended up in a field of dandelions. Was it magic? Or was it my friend? Her other close friend made me a jar of preserved dandelions that sits next to my bed so I can say hello whenever I miss her. I look at that jar a lot.
There has not been one single day since she died that I haven't cried. Some days I just tear up when I want to talk to her, and some days I tell my husband I miss her, and just hearing my own voice declare that statement makes me realize that she is really gone. I tried to ask her, or will her back once just for one more hug, but then I felt dumb for asking. I was walking my dogs the other day and felt my breath taken from me like the aftereffects of a punch, but instead of physical pain, it was emotional, and I started crying because it hit me all over again, because somehow I knew it was her.
As more changes rapidly come my way, like aging parents or my daughter heading off to college, it is my friend that I want to call. I was overwhelmed thinking about these changes and felt my phone vibrating in my purse. When I picked it up, it was calling my friend. Perhaps I touched it unknowingly. She is still a number in my favorites list, and so maybe when I brushed against my bag, it hit her number. It startled me to see her photo pop up on my screen, and I heard her voice from her outgoing message before I could hang up. How could this not be a sign? I could justify it as an accident, or I could look at it as magical thinking, or I could just see it as a call from a friend. The friend I want to hear from more than anyone else on the planet.
