Losing a Friend
I found out yesterday that a dear classmate of mine, Hillary Cooper, died in her sleep Tuesday night. She wasn’t just a classmate. Hillary was my friend. We have been friends since preschool. Actually, she was my first “girlfriend” in kindergarten and first grade. Don’t get the wrong idea. This isn’t that type of story. We were simply friends that cared about each other.
The news shocked me. I have been meaning to go see her, and to introduce her to my family for over three years. We talked regularly almost every month. I talked to her more than any of my classmates. She was so caring. She read every Facebook post that I made, and she didn’t read them for the reasons so many others do. She read them because she was my friend.
Hillary would always compliment me on finding such an incredible wife. She would tell me how good it was to see me in love with someone so beautiful inside and out. Hillary was such a free spirit. I am sure that she saw that in Emily Drew. However, I believe that she was happy to see me in love with my entire family. Our dynamics is quite special, and one that I thought I would never be a part of.
Hillary and I both come from a broken home. My dad actually was friends with her mother. Divorce is tough on kids. It was tough on me, and I am sure it was tough on Hillary. You grow up hanging out with friends that have moms and dads that seem to be inseparable, and then go home to your mother’s house. Oh wait, no it’s Dad’s night tonight.
I don’t know about Hillary, but I grew up assuming that I would never have a traditional family. The thought never entered my mind really. I just assumed I would go through life having a good time and dating someone now and then. I didn’t want to settle for just anyone. I believe God had pity on me when Drew came into my life. I don’t really believe in true love. I believe in meeting someone that you mesh with, love starts to grow, and then commitments are made. I believe that love is something that you do versus feel. However, I feel hypocritical when I say all of that because I am head over heels in love with my wife. She makes my heart beat out of my chest some 13 years later. Our little family is truly my treasure on this earth.
I think that Hillary was happy to see her friend in love. The last thing she ever said to me was, “I just could squeeze lil Magnolia to pieces. You’re a lucky man. Talk soon”. I should have gone to see her. That’s what shocked me the most when I heard the news. I have wanted to see her for years. Why in the hell did I not take my family over there? The finality of death is too hard to bear sometimes. I didn’t expect to lose my childhood buddy at 48-years-old. Like all of us I assumed that I would get around to it. Now that window has closed forever. Magnolia will never get a hug from her. Drew will never get to know her. They would have been great friends. Hillary was such a creative just like my talented wife. I feel like they would have taken a walk and talked until all hours of the night about the beauty in nature especially in our mountain home of Ashe.
I could listen for hours to people like Hillary. People that see beauty where others see nothing at all. My wife takes that to a whole new level. Once we were somewhere in the Bahamas walking around. We had taken a cruise with our late friend Lisa Gnievek, and we at one of the stops. We were all laughing and sipping wine when all of a sudden, my wife stops in her tracks, screams, and is fixated on some pothole covering. Evidently there was a pattern on the pothole that simply mesmerized Emily Drew. I can only wish to see beauty like that in the world. I love my wife for that beauty. That beauty that lies in her very soul. I mean, what is it that allows people to create such beauty in their brains?
Ok this isn’t a love letter to my wife. It’s my way of saying that I appreciate God putting people in my life that explain this beauty in nature. Most people spend their lives talking about the ugliness of politics and government. They are obsessed with elements in life that will never be anything other than corrupt and ugly. They long for a state of utopia that will never be. Hillary could take you on the New River, and you would forget all about government and politics. Now that beauty is gone. That light is out, and I will miss my friend forever.
Now I am at Carolina Beach with my sweet family. I have been reading The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway. He’s definitely one of my favorite authors. The plot takes place in Paris, and his imagery makes me feel like I am walking down the Seine with Jacob and Brett. Reading Hemingway makes me realize that a man has nothing of substance to say until life has beaten him up a bit, and it beats us all, some more than others. How do any of us recognize love without experiencing heart break? How do any of us experience a sense of urgency without death reminding all of us that we are surely mortal? How do we love God and appreciate His love and mercy without knowing our own depravity?
Life has a way of crushing us: death, war, failure, bankruptcy, divorce, heartbreak, loss of a job, closing of a business, end of a career, etc. It’s in those moments that we feel down. We feel surrounded by darkness so thick that it appears the blackness will never subside. For some this is a time of extreme sadness, and for others it becomes something quite worse, depression. Some are able to make it out of these obscure moments with the help of the universal healer, time. Others seem to never break those chains.
I propose that these difficult moments in time are actually something all together different. When life crushes you, it becomes what I call the great teacher of light. From my childhood, I can clearly see the majestic beauty that lies before me in my family. I hold my wife at night in a thankfulness that most will never know without experiencing the sadness of a broken home. I hold a woman that isn’t jealous instead supportive; doesn’t nag instead thought provoking with each conversation; and isn’t callous instead loving and nurturing. Only God knows the depth of my love. Not only did He know it before creation, but He heard it in my pleads for mercy during her cancer.
Hillary’s death is heartbreaking. It’s one of those dark moments, but I am old enough to know that there is light in all of this. I remember her illuminous glow that would absolutely blind any room. I remember her love of nature especially for that of our native home. I remember her love for her children that you could sense with such array when reading her comments about each of their successes. I believe that she took from some of her childhood struggles, and in turn provided even better for her children. She can accept those newly earned wings with the confidence that she has earned the compliment, ‘job well-done Hillary’. You have prepared your babies with the skills necessary to take on the great professor, life. Most have only regrets, but you my friend parented with success in my eyes.
Hillary, I am going to miss you until we meet again sweet girl. You have left me with a regret that won’t pass anytime soon. The regret of not acting and introducing you to my family , so they too could benefit from your brightness. This is a regret that will teach me a lesson, and I hope that whoever is reading this learns the lesson without having to lose someone. Death reminds us that a sense of urgency is necessary on this earth because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. It’s a cliché statement, but so true. If there is someone you want to hug, hug them. If there is something you need to do, do it now. I know I held my dear wife last night with a tightness unlike any in the past months.
Hillary, none of us know exactly what Heaven looks like, but I hope you are in a canoe filled with animals. I hope your mother and father are in a canoe on either side. I hope you are all singing in a way that you couldn’t on this earth. I pray the sun is shining on your sweet face and the cool mountain breeze is blowing in a way that only children of the Appalachians could explain. All I can say is, “job well-done my friend”. You will forever in my heart remain that sweet little girl that I grew up with in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
