Chosen Family and Unimaginable Goodbyes

In order to understand why this is so hard I’ll have to give you some back story.

When I was 8 years old, I met my best friend. We were not besties right from the start but rather two girls who found themselves in a girl scout troop that consisted, initially, of one family, their friends, and then somehow us. Now if I let her tell the story she will tell you we didn’t like each other much at first. If I tell it, which I am, I think we just preferred to somehow initiate ourselves with the main group but kept getting paired off together like little 8-year-old misfit outcasts. I think we both just wanted to fit in with the group and cared less about becoming friends with each other. At some point, I don’t know when but at least a year or two, we found out we had an actual link to each other. I showed up at my Godmothers because she was taking her godchildren to see the Nutcracker. One of her godchildren was also her niece. And sitting on the couch was that niece’s sister. My future best friend, my future sister from another Mister. It baffled the adults how we didn’t know sooner. My mom knew her parents. She went to school with them, her best friend’s brother is my best friend’s dad. Yet no one realized until that day that we had a connection. After that I think we warmed up to each other much more and became actual friends. But as childhood friendships go, we lost touch for a couple years around junior high. Then came the internet and the emails and the perfect way for an introvert to reach out to an old friend. I got her email from my Godmother and excitedly sent off an email to her. I told her I was just hired at the brand-new Marcus theatre that they were still building in Oakdale. How I had to train in Hastings, and you’ll never look at butter the same after you see it slosh out of giant tub. She responded and indeed knew the horrors of tub butter. She too had just been hired at the brand-new Marcus theatre in Oakdale. The universe knew we were meant to find friendship in each other. I was 16 then and she has been a part of my life ever since. And in turn, so has her family. I grew up with her. My mom grew up with them. I can say they are my best friend’s family… but they feel like my own. All of them, from her parents to her sisters, have always made me feel welcome. But I have to say that besides my friend, her mom is the one who has always felt like blood. She’s just always been there. Her genuine kindness and care are so hard to find in people. I know plenty of good kind people but there are some who are just pure light. Just a different type of good you can’t put your finger on. That’s her.

When my Grandmother was diagnosed with terminal cancer my friend and her mom put together easy to heat and eat meals because they knew what those first couple of weeks were going to be like.

When I came by to be with my friend after she had gone through a hard time, her mother stopped me as she was heading out. I was waiting for her to say she was glad I came or something like that. Instead, she asked if I was okay, knowing that I was having my own issues. Letting me know she knew I had my mom, but that she was there for me too.  

For my 40th birthday she put together a date night with a book, because she knows me. And if you know me you know there are no better nights than book date nights. Just a snack, wine, and a good book. Perfection.

She was the one who would come pickup our ridiculous early 20-something selves after a night out. And she never once complained when we insisted on a late-night Denny’s or White Castle stop. She would get us there, sit with us, and listen to our retellings of the night’s shenanigans, in between shoving fries in our face. I think she got a few good laughs out of it.

When my friend got married, I had to leave the reception a little early because of a migraine. I remember being so disappointed I had to go because the last thing I saw as we were heading out the door was her mom gleefully dolling out birthday party like props for people. I feel like there might have been a giant pair of sunglasses or two…and maybe a feather boa. Items like those. But that’s just her. She brings joy.

One Christmas she came into my work for something and stopped and gave me a package of my (our) favorite amaretto cookies. Another time she stopped and gave me tea and told me I would probably like them (I’m guessing the company) because we thought similarly about certain things.

For anyone’s birthday she always puts together those cute, animated birthday cards that put your face on a little cartoon that’s dancing and singing. I found out she even keeps a list to avoid repeats for folks.

I’m sure I could go on for much longer but hopefully you get a bit of the picture of who she is.

On my birthday this year my friend and her son came with me and my mom to the cat café. We stopped for lunch after at Keys. As our bill came my friend had to take a call. I wish she could have been with her family instead of me at that moment. I was a poor second best. Her mom had just been diagnosed with cancer.

And now, 3 months later, her mom has gone into hospice. Last night, for the first time in my life, I had to go say goodbye to someone knowing it was goodbye. I’ve lost so many people in so many ways, but this was a first.

She seemed weak but like herself. I quickly forgot why we were even there. It just felt like visiting a friend who should be out soon. She complemented my hair cut. Told my mom she had better make sure she took a seat. That she was getting nervous for my mom having to stand the whole time with her cane. Because of course she would still worry about someone else during a time like this.

I had gone with the intent of making sure she knew two things. That I absolutely think the world of her, and that I am so grateful that she always made me feel like family. Yet when the time came to say goodbye, I didn’t say those things. I was afraid to hug her because I might hurt her, but she pulled me in. I did get to tell her that I love her, and I do. And she had me promise I’d take care of my friend, which was the easiest promise ever. But I left it at that. As my mom and I were leaving I told her how I wish I had said more. She pointed out that if I had it would have been a tearful goodbye. She was right. I’ve shed tears over all this, but I kept it together with her. It almost felt like a “I’ll be seeing ya” and I guess maybe it was.

All the same it’s haunting. It’s the one thing you don’t get a do over on. It’s so final and awful and sad. I’m mad at myself for not doing more with that moment. You always wish you had a chance to say goodbye, and I did. And I did it all wrong. My friend said there’s not a right way.  I know she’s right. I just feel like her mom deserved more. In the grand scheme of things how I said goodbye really couldn’t matter less. In truth it’s probably less that I said goodbye wrong and more that this whole situation is wrong. I hate that her family is going through this. I hate that she is going through this. I hate cancer. I hate that there’s never enough time. But it’s because of the amount of love I have for her and their family that allows for that kind of hate. Hate for what goes after the good in the world.