Where the Story Stopped
Have you ever left an airport realizing that you forgot your book on the plane? I have, and I was in the middle of the best part of the story. After I checked into the hotel, I noticed that the city library sat across the street. So the following day, I found the book at the library and finished reading it. The book had a very satisfying ending.
Losing your best friend is like someone snatching away a book you are reading and throwing it into the ocean. You watch, horrified, as it floats away on the waves. You know that you cannot run to the library, or the bookstore, for another copy because a material copy of this book doesn’t exist.
It felt like my friend Janice, and I were co-authoring a book. This book included chapters from the times before we knew each other. We would never meet some of the characters in our story, such as childhood friends, grandparents, and parents who had passed. And yet we felt like we knew them all.
Our husbands, children, grandchildren, Janice’s mom, siblings, friends, and many other family members were woven throughout our story’s pages.
I miss the updates on the people in her life. I want to be able to read another chapter and hear what has happened to her friends and family members. I don’t know some of them personally, but I have come to care about them through Janice.
As in any story, we both had a few challenging characters in our lives. Yet, through our conversations, we helped each other turn our frustration into empathy, love, and compassion for the people we love, yet sometimes kept us awake at night.
We even had a chapter filled with life’s embarrassing moments.
The ending of this story came too soon. The book has many empty pages left unfilled.
Epilogue
Dear Janice, today is your birthday. You came into this world 57 years ago today. I miss you terribly, but I am grateful for our time together. You were a bright light for so many people.
If not for you, someone who needed love
would have gone without it…
…there would be one less smile,
one less laugh, one less hug, and
the song of life might have skipped a beat.
-Maggie’s Quill
With Love and Energy by the Pond,
Laurel
