Old Friends

For some reason I have spent the past two days thinking of an old friend. I'll call her Sandy. Sandy is much older than me. Well, about 13 years. She is amazing. I think the world of her. Her story goes back so far and is so intertwined in ours that it would be impossible to weave the layers of it together for you and do it any justice in this blog. She has stayed with me in the hospital, sleeping on a hospital chair for days on end. She has cooked for me, cleaned for me, taken care of my house, my children, my husband. She has listened and counseled and cried many, many, many tears. Her life hasn't been pretty. Oh, no. Her early life was spent with a horribly abusive, alcoholic father. She ended up marrying a younger version of her father. After he left her, she was alone to raise their two girls on her own. She was the most hard-working single mother. After her girls were almost grown, she finally met a man who was as good to her as she was to him. They married, but about a year into their honeymoon, he was diagnosed with a horrible form of cancer. Just before their fifth anniversary, he died. About a year after that, Sandy's daughter delivered her first granddaughter. Jaden. Tragically, Jaden died just minutes after her birth. That year, Sandy won a lawsuit for over a million dollars from her husband's death. She gave all of the money away. She built an AIDS hospice in Africa. She wanted no fame, no notariety for it. Not even a plaque with her name on it. That's just how she is.

Sandy has also suffered terribly from manic depression for as long as I can remember.

Whenever anyone asked about our relationship, I would always tell them that it was the most mutually satisfying relationship that I've ever had. Sandy loved, totally adored, me and my family. She thought we were the greatest things since sliced bread. And we thought the same of her. She had been in our life for so long, and played such a vital part that we just assumed that she would always be with us.

When her last daughter got married at age 25, it was the first time that Sandy was alone. We feared that all of those years of running from her demons would catch up with her once she was alone. Years of keeping herself too busy to properly grieve or take care of herself were nipping at her heels. When her daughter moved away at marriage, it quickly took her down and knocked her out.

The depression quickly caught up with her and overtook her life. But this time, she shut us out too. Usually during her extreme depression, she would curl up under the blankets for a month or so, then slowly inch her way back into our lives. Sometimes, even, we would be the only ones allowed to see her in those dark days. But not this time.

For almost one year now we've called and left messages. Just brief, positive messages. Emailed messages and pictures. Sent cards. For the first month or two, she would send us a line or two to let us know that she was still alive, just severely depressed. After a while...nothing. Surely she would call at Christmas. Christmas is her favorite time and she loads up her entire car with gifts for the boys. She is nuts about the boys and loves buying things for them. Christmas came and went, along with all of the other holidays we looked for her. Nothing.

I still struggle daily with the next step. I have prayed for her. I have missed her. I have cried for her. I have been angry with her. I'm sure you can imagine the range of emotions one would feel in this situation.

So, what to do? My friend Dave and my son Gable say that I should just show up at her door. But Dave also cautions that I need to be prepared for her to slam it in my face. I'm not ready for that. But I'm getting to the place that I really desire closure. Is that wrong? I want to be patient for the next 10 years if that's what this relationship calls for. But at the same time I want to either grieve the ending of an amazing relationship or know that she wants me to wait around. I have tried to respect her request for privacy. Some days I get really mad and picture her showing up at my house and me demanding answers. What kind of friend am I? Just today I decided that if she ever shows up, I will pray to embrace her as the prodigal did for his son. Openly embrace her and celebrate. Talk later - if ever. I decided that I would go to her house tomorrow and then I changed my mind. Again.

So, since there really is no way to end this blog, I guess if you felt a tug at your heart to pray for Sandy...please don't ignore it. It would mean a lot.

Thanks for listening.