One of my New Year’s resolutions arrived way too late.
You see, minimalists seem to always use bullet journals (or at least write in journals) and so I pragmatically purchased my very own, and dutifully wrote down my broad objectives for 2020 on New Year’s Day. One of these seven objectives was written as “Deepen and Expand All Relationships.” Yes, I was thinking of my husband and children, but I also spent some time thinking about my many friendships: those I have had since kindergarten, those more newly-made, those I wish to make, and those which I had let go out of negligence. Sheer negligence.
And then came the terrible news that one of my college housemates had died. A good, good friend I had somehow lost touch with throughout the years. A whacky, crazy, fun and joyful presence in my life for so long had disappeared into the maelstrom of raising a family. And now that beautiful spirit had disappeared from this realm forever; unable to retrieve, undo, circle back upon.
How did I let this happen? How did WE let this happen? I worried about attending college reunions - afraid to let others see that I had gained weight and was no longer the attractive young woman of 40 years ago. I worried about arranging visits at our respective beach houses for the same reason - letting her husband see me in a bathing suit seemed impossible to me.
Little did I know that you had divorced, and - from what I learned at your funeral today - had grown into a mature woman exactly like me (minus a few pounds) who loved complementary medicine, spirituality, and interconnectedness. My God, your funeral was held in the very church - two hours from my home - in which my grandparents were married exactly 99 years ago! I sat next to a stained glass window dedicated to my great-grandmother!
Yes, we were interconnected and my heart is breaking right now.
Hold tight to those you love.