The Dreaded Email

An Unexpected Gift

The dreaded email arrived this morning. I had been expecting it, kind of, but the reality of it still made my heart drop to the floor. Cathy, my long-time friend was gone. After the shock wore off a bit, I wrote the sender back, thanking her for her incredible kindness in taking the time to let me know. I know from experience that this is one of the hardest emails to write because it shatters hearts and leaves dull mourning in its wake.

So I sat there, tears running down my face, feeling the loss of my friend. And then it occurred to me that this wasn’t about me. I was flooded with feelings from all directions.

First, I was profoundly happy that she wasn’t suffering anymore. She had oral cancer - the same thing from which my mom died - and we both remembered that. She was scared and hurting. It got worse from there. So her suffering is over and she can be at peace now.

I was friends with her mom before Cathy and I became friends. Her mom, Ann, and I taught together in the Tulsa Public Schools. When I came to visit Ann, Cathy made a point of dropping everything so that she could take us places. One memory in particular was the day we spent at the Aquarium, close to Tulsa. I hadn’t even known it existed, and it was a glorious experience.

Cathy and I became closer over the years communicating via email, since we were rarely in the same place at the same time, particularly after we lost her mom/my friend, Ann. We came to truly love and care about each other - our emails encompassing some 15 years or so.

Second, I was flooded with feelings of how lucky I was to have shared even a part of her life. She was creative and fun, loving and sweet. She had a home she was determined to renovate one room at a time. She had inherited furniture - some she loved, other pieces she hated, but she refused to get rid of any of it. She worked in her yard like a Trojan, wanting a profuse display of flowers all year long. She fought several illnesses while I knew her, keeping her spirits up, determined to beat whatever it was and get well enough to continue with the things she loved. I loved her sense of humor I still smile as I’m sitting here, thinking of some of our inside, running jokes.

I told some people this morning what had happened, and even the people who know me well were surprised that I was planning to have a ‘normal’ day, staying as busy as possible. This is my way of honoring Cathy’s memory. She would be asking me what I would plant in my garden (if I had one now that I’ve moved to Thailand) or defending her decision to keep yet another inherited piece of furniture that weighed a ton, was ugly as sin, whose drawers wouldn’t open and which was missing the end piece for its leg. She wouldn’t want me to sit here saying, “Poor me.”

So, I received the dreaded email which knocked me flat. I say it was also a “gift” because it forced me to keep my head on straight and remember what was special about our friendship and to honor her memory by getting on with my life, especially today. She knows that I will always carry her in my heart. She knows that I’m happy her suffering is over. I only wish I could plant some flowers in her garden in the spring and hug her neck.