On Funerals and Friends …And Family
June 12, 2006
A family friend passed away this past Tuesday. I’ve known this person since I was 12 years old, she was an advisor in an organization I used to belong to called Rainbow Girls. I was unaware, but she had a long battle with cancer, and she was ready for her fight to end. Many people came out on Saturday morning to celebrate her life, and remember what a warm and wonderful person she was.
I was one of them.
As I sat in the chapel of the church, it struck me that, except for one funeral I have attended since returning to Florida, all of the others have been for people I knew as a Rainbow Girl. It’s an important distinction because my time as a Rainbow Girl I look back on rather fondly, even more so than my school memories. It was there I worked hard, learned a lot about myself, and to this day have friendships that have stood the test of time. (They are like sisters and family to me, many of them.) It only reinforces the sadness that Rainbow isn’t a big part of my life anymore when things like this happen. It also reminds me that my mom is no longer with me, since she was my chaperone for many events. It also doesn’t help when someone you haven’t seen in 16 years asks “how is your mom doing these days?” during polite conversation. It’s unintentional, but it does drive that proverbial knife in just a little bit deeper.
(I was also reminded of just how rude people can still be after 15 or so years, so while things do normally change, I guess they can also stay the same, too.)
She has two daughters, both of which I have known for a very long time; I had met them through Rainbow. They have grown up to be beautiful young women, and both have boys who served as the altar boys for their grandmother’s funeral. They were very handsome and did a great job. She would have been exceptionally proud of them.
Her older daughter I saw as I arrived at the church, and I stopped and gave her a hug and told her how beautiful she looked and how sorry I was. I was struck at how she trembled as I hugged her, and I felt sorry that she had lost her mother. I could relate. We had bonded over so many other things as young women; but now we had another bond, albeit unintentional. We had both lost our mothers. This was not exactly the way I wanted to see her again after so many years. A happier occasion would have been better, but I was glad to see her again, even in this circumstance.
As I left the reception following the service, I stopped again to say goodbye to her. The rest of the family was inside the hall, as were many of the people who had attended the service. I told her if she needed anything at all to call me, and to please keep in touch with me. We hugged again, and I headed toward my car. I turned back to look at her and she stood there on the sidewalk, alone. Looking so very lost, and not sure where to go next.
I remember that feeling. I can relate.
M, if you ever read this, just know my thoughts are with you and if you need anything, just call and I’ll do whatever I can to help. I’ll always be here for you.
Aunt Ruth, Rest In Peace. You will be missed.
June 12th, 2006 at 7:51 pm
Rainbow Girls served us both well and I am proud of the women we have become! Not everyone took the vows of sistership as seriously as we did. I am honored to be counted as one of your friends. Love, La
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June 14th, 2006 at 2:02 am
I’m sorry about your friend. I hate the fact I’m at the age people start to die. a friend of mine lost her husband a month ago.
I’d have gotten my nails done, too…
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