Monday, October 6, 2008
Exactly a year ago today, my dearest friend lost her battle with cancer. Nathalla left behind a husband, an eight year old daughter, her mother, sister, neices, nephews, uncles, aunts and a host of friends and colleagues who feel her absence keenly even now.
I'm sure that everyone who knew her misses her and grieved in their own unique way, but for me the absence surrounds me and sneaks up on me--quietly, stealthily and in an enveloping manner. We were friends for more than half of my life and although I think I'm finally through the denial stage of the grief, I'm still carrying around the anger. I sneered at the girl outside the grocery store asking for donations for breast cancer research today and she should be glad I didn't take a swing at her. There are plenty of people in the world today who are mean, nasty people and they make you wish that an anvil like the ones in the old cartoons would drop out of the sky and conk them on the head. But those people live to be 97 years old and nothing bad ever happens to them. My dear sweet friend, who was a gentle spirit met her end in a painful and wretched manner that she certainly didn't deserve. Her daughter certainly doesn't deserve to have to hear about her mother rather than experiencing her love and affection.
I bought a bracelet this weekend that I knew was a style that she would like and I'm going to send it to my friend's daughter. Her father will probably need to take the needle-nose pliers to it until she's older, but I want her to have it. I'm also enclosing a copy of The Little Prince for her, because it gives me comfort when I'm sad and missing her mother and I want to share that with her.
I know that life's not fair, but sometimes it's really unfair.