Why can’t I say good-bye to you?
Photo by MZ
One of my friends is dying.
I think.
Doesn’t that sound odd?
I don’t know what is going on for certain. I rely upon e-mail and Facebook updates. My friend is a former co-worker, someone with whom I’ve worked off and on over the course of two decades. We kept in touch after I left my job. Until she got sick. Then she went underground. Or her family sequestered her for their own reasons. Whatever the story, I can no longer reach her by phone or e-mail or Facebook or through written requests sent by U.S. mail.
At first I was hurt. Then I brushed away my feelings, realizing that I was being self-centered. What did I know about terminal illness? Would I want a parade of visitors, no matter how well-meaning, filing past my sick bed or the sick bed of a loved one? Would I feel added pressure to somehow put on a brave face, have coffee and snacks available to feed my guests, worry about my house being a mess or about how everything appears to the uninitiated? My only experiences with death so far have been of the swift-moving type. Here today, gone tomorrow.
However, I know how comforting it was to have friends and family and acquaintances stop in to visit, drop off a cake or send a card after our family’s loss. So, I project this feeling on my friend’s situation. If I were dying and no one called or wrote or tried in any way to visit me, wouldn’t I feel even worse? Maybe I wouldn’t know. Maybe the sharp edge of pain or the dulling effect of medication would keep me oblivious.
If a long, wasting illness is how I exit this life, it will be my call how to handle it. This is her wish, or by proxy, her family’s call. I must accept it no matter how much it tears at me.
Cancer isn’t discriminating. It sharpens the arrow and aims it toward any moving target. There aren’t any bull’s-eyes on the bad folks any more than there are protective shields on the good guys. I’ve watched as so many good-hearted, clean-living, health-conscious people in my life have stepped into its trajectory. I also marvel how others who seem to have a death wish just chug along, dodging all of death’s fast-moving arrows.
As crazy as this sounds, I sometimes dread logging on to my Facebook account and seeing that I have a message. The last one said: “She’s in hospice. It could be any time.”
How the hell am I supposed to react to that? My urge is to find her and rush to her side, to give her hand a squeeze, to tell her how thankful I am that she took me under her wing when I was a cub reporter, that she had my back, that she played a motherly role in my life when I needed it the most, that she made me laugh harder than just about anyone else on Earth, that I think she is one of the smartest, toughest, most caring and diplomatic people I’ve ever known.
I suppose the next time I see her will be at her funeral. I hope I’m wrong.
One of my friends is dying and I’m sorry I didn’t have one last chance to tell her how I feel.
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January 20th, 2010 at 6:47 pm
Thanks for stopping by neighbor!
I just read your post and how ironic, I am walking the line on doing a post about a friend of mine with cancer.
May I just toss in my opinion? Find her, try to contact/see her before it’s too late. You’ll both be happy you did =)
I hope the Divine Ms. Bossy makes it our way. I met her on her last adventure. She is as lovely inside as she is outside!
~Nancy
January 20th, 2010 at 11:38 pm
I agree. Try one last time. Or at least send a message–send that message you wrote in this post–via whoever is updating Facebook about her.
I’m so sorry.
January 20th, 2010 at 11:55 pm
Thank you both for the encouragement. I will try one more time. The problem is I don’t know where to send anything. But a try is better than nothing, right?
January 21st, 2010 at 1:14 am
Yes, one more time; I agree.
January 21st, 2010 at 1:14 am
..and I’m so sorry.
January 21st, 2010 at 4:25 pm
At least you will know you tried.
My hubby’s aunt just passed on Sunday from cancer. They put her in hospice Thursday. We went & saw her Friday & by Sunday, she was gone. I’m glad we got to see her one last time.
January 22nd, 2010 at 11:25 am
Whether you know it or not, you just told her how you feel…so very movingly, beautifully and tenderly. I know it doesn’t lessen the pain of not knowing for sure, but know that you must be going through. I agree with the others though…try one last time. And I think sending a copy of this would be a perfect thing to send!
January 26th, 2010 at 9:23 am
I’m so sorry for you and your friend. I really believe she could feel your thoughts. I really do.
January 27th, 2010 at 10:47 am
I am so very sorry. I hope you get the chance for your goodbyes, but if not, I think she must somehow feel the love you’re sending out.
January 29th, 2010 at 8:31 pm
i’m so sorry. i’d probably keep trying, as others have said. i don’t know if that makes me selfish, but i would feel better somehow knowing that i did what i could do, even if people didn’t want it.
still, i am so sorry, regardless. this must be very painful for you.
January 29th, 2010 at 8:56 pm
Oh, I am very sorry. You know MZ, maybe you could just write down the things that you want her to know. Her family would also cherish it later.
I wish you the best in whatever that you decide. I’m sorry to hear this sad news.
Love
Liz
January 31st, 2010 at 10:01 pm
[...] we can carpool to the nursing home where another former co-worker and friend is in hospice care. It’s been a long few weeks trying to find this dying friend. Just when I had given up hope of seeing her, I received an e-mail with her address and the advice: [...]