until then
[2005-01-07 - 1:29 a.m.]

Someone that I know died on New Years Day.

Maybe I should say 'knew' because we lost touch for about 5 years. She had an inoperable brain tumor when we were friends, but she managed to get treatment and then a full recovery. Well, apparently, she went into remission and eventually the cancer returned and consumed her.

It took a Gramma from 3 small children, a sister from 3 siblings, a wife from a husband, and a daughter from loving parents who are dealing with the pain of putting one of their children in the grave. It took a 'mommy' from many spoiled housepets, a member from a very close-knit congregation, and it took a dear Mother from Julie and Louis and Trisha.

ONe day when we were in her back yard, looking at the new goat pen her husband had built, my friend confided in me that when she was a teenager, her drug of choice was acid. Grown up and with little children to care for, she regretted doing that. She also wished her husband would quit smoking, but he didn't.

I read her obituary in the paper. It said she died peacefully at home, and that donations could be made to Hospice. At that point, I would guess, knowing her as I did, that she stopped regretting and worrying and accepted that she had some time left to be with the most important people in her life. Lots of us don't get any warning, and we die having left secret gifts ungiven, squabbles unsettled, people un-hugged, wills unwritten, goodbyes never even thought of.

We lost touch the first time after she went into remission. There may come a time when I'll see her again and instead of goodbye, our next exchange will be happy hello's. Until that day, I guess I'll just miss her a little and try to take a lesson from Cindy's life.