So once upon a time, there were two old ladies named C and B. They’re both 80, and have been friends for 75 years.
60 years ago, C and B were young nurses in Buffalo, NY. They got bored and decided that it was time to see the world. They hopped in a car and headed across the USA in WWII era America and made it as far as Denver, Colorado.
It was in Denver that they stopped for gas on Colfax avenue and met two gentlemen whose friendship was as long and as close as C and B’s. A double wedding quickly followed, and for the past 60 years, C and B have been living in Denver. They lived in the same neighborhood, raised their kids together, navigated the path from housewife to feminist to community activist to grandmother together. In time, they mourned their parents together. Their husbands. Their youth. C and B are sisters in spirit, if not by blood.
A few days ago, I was sitting in a local yarn shop with B, and suddenly her phone began to ring…a lot…five calls in ten minutes, mostly from her kids and C’s kids, the nieces and nephews of her heart.
B finally picks up the phone, exasperated, and says, what’s going on? Is there something wrong with my house? My dogs? Son, are YOU ok?
There was a silence as everyone looked at B, realizing something was terribly wrong.
Then she screamed. I’ve never heard a scream like that.
“Oh my God! C’s DEAD?!”
What happened after is too heartbreaking for me to continue the story. But I share that much of it to say this–please, be grateful. Be thankful for the people you have chosen to hold close to your heart and who have chosen to hold you close. Don’t take them for granted.
Go find someone who has walked beside you on the path through life today, and give them a hug. Cherish them. Because they can be gone in a heartbeat.
I don’t mean to get all schmaltzy and moralistic, but…