sorrow

Yesterday my husband and I attended the saddest, most heart wrenching yet beautiful memorial service. A service that left even my one and only sobbing next to me. Death is never easy and lately there has been a lot of it. I, personally, am sick to death of death. I am sick of crying. I am sick for my friend who is a widow at 43. I am sick that my friends next door are gone. I am sick of the sadness that has surrounded me lately. The sorrow that is too overwhelming and left me in bed with a migraine that took 24 hours to subside. I hate that my heart feels too much for these friends that, though not blood, are my family. When I moved to Cleveland in 1994 all I had was a truck of old stuff and a boyfriend that refused to work. When I arrived, my beautiful east side apartment was infested with roaches. Probably would have been good to know before I trucked all my crap to a strange city. None of this held any strong promise for a burgeoning new life. Still I kept at it. I wasn't giving up because I was not going back to the Steel City, no way, no how. After finding a new clean place on the west side I was able to focus on my new job. Now mind you, this was not a career. I didn't move to start any big plans, just see how things went. I transferred restaurant jobs and by the end of my  first day, this wild haired, freckly faced girl and I were fast friends. Realizing that my mess of a relationship was on the down slide, she and I were joined at the hip. Racing from one side of Cleveland to the other. Sleepovers like teenagers. Sunday dinners at her big old house where one could hear the ice clinking in the other room during cocktail hour and her mom made the best beef stroganoff. St. Patty's Day parades with pints and pints of Guinness and her brother yelling "Mr. Sweeney" every 5 minutes because, you know, someone is going to wave back. Ironically, it was probably my future father-in-law. So many memories, so many years. Twenty years I just realized today. Through those years we weren't so joined at the hip because life always intervenes and time gets away from you. But through those years we have stayed the closest of friends knowing one merely has to pick up the phone to reconnect. Now this man whom she loved more than life is gone. My heart breaks for my friend and if I could whisk her back in time to start again, I know she'd do the same all over. They talked yesterday about how adventurous he was, biking all over the world, doing this, doing that yet my friend claimed she was less so. Here's where I have to disagree. Through the years I have known her to take numerous trips abroad, climb mountains in Peru or Chile, one of those mountain places, live in China for 3 months, go back to school, change careers, run races, sail, the list goes on. Adventurous she is, along with brave and strong. She's never run from challenges even when they were too hard for most to handle. Because of this I know she will be okay. When her heart frees itself of the sorrow, she can go on because there are always new challenges and new adventures and she knows I'm only a phone call away. Good night world.