Wordless...

My Great Aunt is 91. She lives in a convent and is in failing health.  Everyday when the phone rings at an unusual time, I get a twinge in my belly that it is my mother with the news that she has past. 

And yet, that call has not come.

But the phone has rung.

To tell me that a friend of ours has had a massive heart attack while on his way to work.  He has four kids under 13.  No wild sorted history of shenanigans that would affect his health.  No indicator that there was an issue.  He was just going to work.  At forty three years old, he dropped on the T.  He is for all intents, okay.  He woke up a few days laster and even remembers the paramedics using the paddles on him.  He was lucky.  As is his wife, three daughters and baby boy.

And yet, the phone rang again.

This time the news was not lucky.  My friend, my co-worker, lost her husband today. While he had a history of heart issues, I don't think anyone saw it coming.  Course, does anyone in their early fifties?

She and I, while in different circles, went to High School together and knew all the same people.  Reconnecting in our late 20's at work was like old home day.  I was fresh off my divorce, struggling to raise the boys on my own, she was pregnant with her third child, in a relationship that was hit or miss at best. 

Through the years our friendship has cycled through.  We've done girls weekend in Nantucket, and many dinners out. We've taken time off when we were in different places. Last month we went for ice cream and reflected on the old days which now, seems like a lifetime ago, and laughed about how since our husband's are at that age (in their early-mid 50's) it's no longer selective hearing, but actual not hearing us entirely, and we end up in the grocery store yelling about buying double stuff or regular Oreos.

She has had a rough go over the years, some just a series of bad breaks, and others of her own doing.  But when she met her husband eight or so years ago, he seemed to give her balance.  They had the same sense of adventure and bit of a wild side, but he was down to earth and kept her grounded.  He was good for her kids, and a solid foundation for her. At the end of the day they counterbalanced each other really well, like peanut butter and jelly, or Mac-n-Cheese.

It took them what seemed like forever to get married.  Their engagement was only 2 months long.  The week before their wedding he had a massive heart attack, and yet they were not deterred.  He was released from the hospital, married in the living room, and he went back to bed.

Their 1st anniversary would be Sunday. I remember this because it is also my anniversary. And I find myself deeply saddened, and for the first time in a very long time, not finding any words.

And that's the thing, right?  Because in times like these the right, or the wrong, words are what you need.

I remember years ago, I was sitting at my desk, tying up little baggies of Hershey kisses with curly red ribbon.  They were Valentines, for the boy's preschool. I was trying to get them done so they'd be done for the next day's festivities.  This was common for me to go big when they were little, partly because it was a rare moment to utilize my creative brain, and partly because I was desperately trying to overcompensate for not being the mother I thought I should be.  So there I sat, curling the red sparkly wire ribbon with confetti hearts around a pencil to get just the right curl while my friend finished setting up her mail for the next day. We talked about the kids, her recent separation with the father of her youngest daughter (see above not so-great- relationship), single motherhood, and just stuff in general.  She watched me filling the bags, tying and twirling each one, and when I was done said "You are the mother I always wanted to be."  

Now, I have no idea if she remembers that day, or if she even meant what she said.  But in that moment, those were the words I needed to hear more than any other words in the world. It's been 12 or 13 years and those nine simple words have stuck with me more than any other conversation we have ever had.

Nine. Simple. Words.

And now, when she's going through one of the most difficult times in her entire life. 

I have none.