Good-bye My Friend

I lost a friend last week. I should be so sad, and I am...in a way. The thing is she was battling cancer and I just can't be sad that her battle wasn't longer. One day the end of May she went to the chiropractor for some lower back pain. He thankfully and wisely told her she really needed to go see her regular doctor. Within the following three weeks she had a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. Chemo began, she developed blood clots and was assigned bed rest. Before completing her first round of chemo she was admitted to the hospital and taken off of blood thinners. Doing a little better and waiting for her ride home she ventured down the hall to visit a friend. On the way she suffered several strokes leaving her left side paralyzed and unable to communicate. Her family was given the grave news that the spread of the cancer was massive and she would not likely make it through the week. She went home Tuesday and passed away early Saturday morning, August 8. From diagnosis to death, a month and a half.

My friend was a 65 year old woman of class and grace with a husband, five grown children, and 14 grandchildren. She worked part time as a retail manager, was our local seamstress, raised goats, llamas, chickens, and a sundry other animals. She gardened, took care of the church roses, staffed the Sunday morning nursery, lead with gusto an after school program for middle schoolers...yes, middle schoolers, and attended all church functions without fail (even though her husband decided we were all a bunch of hypocrites years ago) Did I mention she had 14 grandchildren? Until just a few years ago she and her husband were alfalfa farmers. Driving by their place overlooking the river bluff you would often see her, alone, moving wheel lines...those incredibly heavy, full of water, irrigating devices we have to use in places where rain is not more plentiful. She was one of the strongest women I have ever known.

In her home she proudly displayed reminders of her dutch ancestry. The wooden clogs of her childhood have holes in them. I can only imagine this industrious, hard working woman wearing holes in her wooden shoes as a child!

We moved to the small town I live in when I began high school. I knew my friend first as Mrs Baker, the mother of my new, and soon to be best friend. The mothers of your friends while in high school become like surrogates at times. I have been blessed with a great Mom, but something about talking to a friends mom....as a mom now myself I do not take this responsibility lightly. I'm not sure when she went from being Mrs Baker to Rose. Some right of passage when a name kind of defines a relationship. She was no longer the mom of my friend, but my friend. And a good friend.

I will miss her. So many suffer for months or years. Why she didn't have to I may never know. I am thankful her battle wasn't longer. Long ago I was told God answers prayer for grace not wants of nature. I am ever thankful for grace.