September 7, 2022, is my friend Carolyn’s birthday.
It is also the day that we
will lay her precious body in the grave.
When Carolyn was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I didn’t know her except as the woman who lived in the house at the edge of our property and the neighbor who had brought Buddy home several times when he ran away. I told myself that I would take a nice meal to her and her husband from time to time, but that was it. I didn’t want to get too close because I didn't want to suffer another loss. That was pure selfishness on my part and I am happy to say that's not the way it ended.
My friend Carolyn lived 3.5
years after her diagnosis with pancreatic cancer and no matter how bad things
got, I never heard her complain. Until
she could no longer manage to text, we messaged each other at least twice a
day. She always wanted to make sure that
I was safe, especially when Mike traveled away from home. She loved to hear about the new baby calves
and would come to see them until she could no longer manage the short trip from
her house to mine. Then, we would look
at the photos of them together and she would gush over how cute they were. She wanted to know about all of my animals,
my children, and my grandchildren. She wanted to know how I was doing at all times. We kept in frequent contact every day for 3.5
years as more than neighbors or even friends. We became sisters.
During the Covid isolation
period, I often set with Carolyn on Sundays while her husband went to church. We would talk until she got tired and then
she would sleep. Then, she would wake
with a start and apologize that she had wasted our time together. I always told her that just being with her
was all I needed, and it was. There was
no time wasted. Just being in her
presence was a gift.
Carolyn taught me the true
meaning of strength. She demonstrated
genuine concern and care for others at a time when she would have had every
right to be self-absorbed. Never did she
complain, and she held on so long because she knew the rest of us needed her. I told her that she was a reflection of the
Creator’s love simply by being herself. She
didn’t need to preach sermons, her life was an example of acceptance and love
and her friendship was one of the purest I have ever known. We didn’t have time to be anything but honest
with one another. We knew we were not promised tomorrow.
In her final days, I was able to make one last
visit. Her husband told her I was coming,
and he said she opened her eyes with excitement. That was my friend, always happy to see me,
even at the very end. When I got there, she
awoke when her husband told her I was there. Her
strength was gone and she couldn't converse, but we had said all the words previously. I didn’t need her to
speak to know that she loved me, so I simply poured out my love to her. She heard me.
She looked into my eyes and she smiled at me. Then she rested and I didn’t expect her to
rally once again before I left. As I
leaned over her and kissed her in farewell, I said a few more words and ended
with “I Love You”. She spoke clearly to
me from her bed and said, “I love you.” None
of us in the room had dry eyes.
Those would be Carolyn’s
last words to me, and they speak volumes.
I would say that I don’t
know how I am going to make it without my friend, only I know that is not what
she would want. She would want me to be
strong, smile, embrace each day, and to remember the time that we shared.
I love you, forever and always,
Carolyn. Thank you for being my friend,
even when I selfishly didn't want what would turn out to be the best for me.