In October of 2010, I was singing in Palm Beach. I decided to take a brief trip to Pittsburgh to surprise my first favorite little guy on his birthday. Just as I boarded the plane, my phone rang with those two words you just read.
I’ve never talked about it much and I’ve never written about it on my blog. I still don’t know what to say or think or feel and it’s 4 1/2 years later. I think about Anne all the time. I stopped writing on her FB wall because I felt like people would think I was crazy, though they are the only people I’ve talked to about her.
I am plagued at least once a week with some gnagging “what if I’d only” type thought. For example, the last time I saw her, at the baptism of one of her nieces maybe?, we were in our church together. When we hugged each other that time, it was one of the few times in our decades-long friendship that she didn’t let go first. What that meant to be a sign?
If it was, I didn’t get it. Instead, months later, I got the call. I went to a funeral. Now, I can’t hug her or sing with her or laugh or cry or imagine what we’ll wear to her daughter’s wedding. She can’t tell me not to be such a goody-two-shoe-wearing nerd and I can’t tell her to take off all the black makeup and clothing and just apply herself (she was so smart).
I am overwhelmed, still, with such awareness of what the world lost that I cannot be really angry. This horrible pattern of “daughter loses her mother too young” was continued by Anne with her own daughter by choice…I can’t feel anything about that except such overwhelming sadness. If she’d pulled it together, everyone would have celebrated it because we all loved her so much. In return for our love, we are all left with that horrible loss of her smile, laughter, and voice.
Sorry, it’s an uncharacteristically sad ending for one of my posts. Here’s one of our favorite songs and this should bring a bit of joy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lN4BqEvb18M