Broken Hearts

A few weeks ago, I emailed an old friend of mine, Lori. We had participated in a "racial bridges" group together, and our group hadn't had a meeting for about two years, all throughout both the life and death of Serenity. I sent her an email with a link that I thought the group might like, also thinking that I now "had the time" to see if we could restart the group. I didn't hear back from her.

A week or so later, her mom replied to my email. My friend had died suddenly; she was one of those with a cancer diagnosis of "six months to live." I knew her mom, J, too, as she also participated in the group. I had always loved seeing them together. It broke my heart to hear that she had died, and I didn't even know she was sick.

I replied to J, and told her we were comrades, of the worst kind, now. That my daughter had died. I offered her my support, and she returned to us hers.

Triple S and I went to dinner with her last night. There were no tears. I thought she looked fine, and couldn't believe how well she was doing, just two months after Lori's tragic death. She did a lot of the talking. She had a different hair-do than I remember. Triple S looked like a ghost. She kind of wanted to leave abruptly, but it was starting to get late. We said we would go out again in a month, and that Triple S and I said that we would help to continue Lori's foundation and help with a fundraiser next year.

When we were back in our car, I told Triple S that I thought she looked good. He gave me one of those looks. He said she looked like she had been through the worst thing. Maybe, I AM one of those people that totally miss it? I told Triple S, maybe she did look thinner, and she really didn't eat much at dinner. But, really, I thought she looked ok. Understandably, not perfect, but getting through. I dind't think she was "over it," but I thought she looked like a strong woman, carrying on. Still living, still struggling. Because that is what we do.