lost...and found

There are few things rarer in life than a true, lasting friendship.

One that stands the test of time.

One that sees you through life's joys and life's sorrows.

One that's as comfortable as your favorite pair of jeans.

It's the first person you think to call when you have good news, or bad.

It is honest, constant and precious.

I've been blessed to have some really close friends in my lifetime.  I talked to my very first friend in the world just the other day.  We met when we were toddlers, grew into teenagers and were in each others' weddings.  Our moms love it when we get together because we act like we did when we were young.  Even though we don't see each other often, the bond is still as strong as it ever was.

I had another good friend...my best friend, really.  We met at church in our early 30's.  We really got to know each other on a choir retreat; we stayed up until 4 a.m. talking about everything under the sun.  There was an instant connection.

Our families became good friends.  We spent many hours in each other's homes, going on antiquing adventures, numerous family outings, celebrated our 40th birthdays with a trip to Chicago with our hubbies...our life's memories were melded together on so many different occasions.  We talked about going to Italy together.  They were a huge source of comfort when Ron's brother died, and then, a few years later, his mom.

We also served in ministry together, singing together in a small ensemble, ultimately recording a CD and traveling to Costa Rica on a mission trip. During that time I also worked alongside my friend's in our church's worship and arts ministry.  It was a time of tremendous spiritual growth for me, largely in part to the influence of the two people and their own experiences in ministry.

And then, in what seemed like a heartbeat, it was gone.

The details of the rift are really unimportant.  I will say that I bear the lion share of the blame. I remember vividly when I realized that our friendship was over and just sobbing, sobbing, sobbing.  I was heartbroken.

It was like a death of a whole family.

At first, I thought about it daily.  What was she doing?  How were the kids?  How was my former colleague doing?

The pain was fierce, raw and, at times, debilitating.

But, as it is wont to do, life went on.  I still thought about them often, probably weekly.  I thought of the family on their birthdays...January 18, March 18, June 17, October 4 and November 4.  I thought of them on their anniversary...exactly one week after ours, same year even.  Ron and I had made it a yearly quest to find the ugliest possible gift for them each year.  Even the realization that it was no longer a part of our summer punch list was painful.

Graduations came and went, each family celebrating separately. Years went by.  I kept thinking surely, someday, we'd run into each other somewhere.  But it never happened.

I'd heard through a mutual friend that my friend's mom had been diagnosed with cancer.  I was devastated.  I always thought we'd be sharing those moments together.  A year or so went by.  One day, I felt an overwhelming sense that her mom had died.  It was July 7, 2008.  I did an Internet search and found her mom's obituary.  She had died July 5.

Again, I was overwhelmed with grief.  For my sweet friend and her loss, but for my loss as well.  I couldn't bear the fact that I wasn't with her to hold her hand, to listen to her, to comfort her. I think I sent her a note.  I think I remember she sending me an email, thanking me.  And I hoped that it would be a new beginning.

It didn't happen that way.  Not yet...

Next time:  the rest of the story.