I had a friend Nancy from church, and for two and a half years I sat behind her and her husband at the early service but I quit going to church after Easter 2011 (long story) and have just been doing church on the internet instead. About seven months ago I had gone to the church again just to get a phone number from my old Sunday school teacher (who I hate). As I was walking back to my car, I saw Nancy standing in the parking lot with her husband talking to another couple. She was carting an oxygen tank (because she had lung cancer).
I marched right up to her, no qualms at all, right in front of them all, and looked her square in the face and said, "I love you!" She looked a little surprised but then said she loved me too.
Nancy and I have the same birthday even though she's 21 years older than me. We both love dogs. She loved Humphrey Bogart. During the time I knew her, I had been to her house for lunch once and got to meet her big dog named Bogey. Another time she invited me and another lady to Cracker Barrel for lunch. I will never forget how she said grace that day. She held both our hands and prayed, "God, thank you for my friends." It made me feel so good to hear her call me a friend. One Christmas eve service, my husband and kids had gone with me and I introduced her to them. My oldest son always referred to her as my "surrogate mom" and his surrogate grandma (because my own mother isn't very loving and my husband's mother is even less loving than mine, only interested in her money).
On our birthday in July this year, Nancy had to go to Mayo Clinic to consult about her voice (she could only talk in a whisper at that point). They said there wasn't anything further they could do for her cancer. Although she was happy to be going home with Jesus, we were all pretty much in shock. For the rest of the summer, I kept thinking I should go visit her but I was scared. I wouldn't even look further in myself to find out why I was scared. I ended up writing her a couple of letters in the regular mail. Even though I already had been "brazen" enough to tell her I loved her (and in front of people, no less!), I wrote her everything I felt about her, no holds barred. I told her I regretted not telling two friends I had worked with in Florida how I felt about them before they died and I didn't want that to happen again. She emailed me a nice response and thanked me a lot for sharing everything in my heart.
Then hospice came into the picture. Again I thought about visiting her. I even talked about it with my therapist. I was so despondent and scared about going that he even said he would go with me if that would help. I didn't want to be a burden on him though. That's way outside the scope of his job to visit her with me.
I wrote Nancy another letter and mailed it. I know this will sound totally insane, but I didn't want her to get to Heaven and be surprised to see Claudia. I didn't want Nancy to be mad at me for not telling her about Claudia either. I know, I was just so paranoid that when Nancy got to Heaven that even Claudia would be mad at ME for not telling Nancy about her, and then they'd spend years talking about what a jerk I was, and then when I'd finally get to Heaven they would both hate me. (It's irrational, I know now, to think like this, but I was panicked and upset at the time.) So in my second letter, I told her all about the guy I went out with, what happened and me getting pregnant, and what happened to Claudia. I remember one of the last things I wrote was "So if you get to Heaven and see someone who looks a lot like me, that's Claudia, and I love her."
I decided to call the pastor's wife one week to see if she would go with me to see Nancy. I waited for four days for her to return my call and then I called the church again, mad as a hornet. Their story was that the receptionist got sick the day I called and never wrote the message so his wife didn't even know I was trying to call. The pastor's wife said she was busy all that week and we would go on Wednesday the next week.
Sunday, September 2, was my daughter's birthday. My husband had gone to the mall with her, her friend and her brother, so I was home by myself watching "Marilyn Hotchkiss Ballroom Dance and Charm School" and folding my husband's laundry when the phone rang. It was the pastor's wife informing me that Nancy had passed away. I screamed, I cried, and she told me she'd let me know when the funeral was. When my husband and kids got home, I put on a blank face because I didn't want to ruin my daughter's birthday. I waited over a week to tell him.
I talked to my therapist that week about being scared to go to the funeral, and he had said he would go with me. (Which, I thought he literally meant "he would go with me" but later I found out since I didn't actually ASK him to go with me, he didn't think I wanted him to go with me. I know, weird.)
Wednesday, September 12, was the memorial service with just pictures. My therapist was nowhere in the sanctuary so the pastor's wife said I could sit by her and her friends, a couple who she introduced as her "surrogate parents." (Wow, I thought that was neat she had surrogates too.) I cried so much during the service that those friends came up to me later and said they were sorry for the loss of my friend.
The worship leader sang a solo of "I Can Only Imagine." One of Nancy's close friends gave a little speech about the fun times they had at Starbucks every week. One of her stepchildren read a letter from her biological son (who has cerebral palsy and is in a wheelchair and couldn't travel). The worship leader sang another solo of "Amazing Grace" (the Chris Tomlin version). Her Bible study leader said a few words. A trio from the choir from the early service (that me and Nancy always went to) sang a song. Then, believe it or not, Nancy's husband gave a eulogy about his wife. (I didn't know she was the "legs girl" for the old advertisement for Legg's pantyhose in the late 70's.) Then they were supposed to have a song played from a CD but there were audio problems and I didn't even know what it was supposed to be (turns out it was "Because You Loved Me" by Celine Dion).
They had a lunch afterwards of just rolls and ham and potato salad and some kind of jello salad and chocolate cake. Each table had a centerpiece of daisies (her favorite flower) in a clear glass vase. They said we could take some home so I did. Then her husband walked up to me while I was eating and gave me a letter Nancy had written me a month ago. I was the only one at the funeral who got one. I waited till I went to my next session the next week to read it with my therapist. In her letter, part of it said that when she gets scared of dying, she thinks of all the people she loves who are in Heaven waiting for her, and then she said she and Claudia would wait for me.
In one of my sessions after that, I decided or discovered that the reason I was too scared to go visit her was because I couldn't bear to say goodbye. I wish she was still here and I wish she never had to die. I can say that about my other friends I mentioned, my grandmas, even Claudia.
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