Loss

I have experienced several losses over the past few years – friends, volunteers, members of the church. Those losses were deaths. But, I think the loss that has been the hardest for me is the loss of a close friend to dementia.

She was a member of the church long before I arrived. We had a lot in common – we were both nurses. But, we didn’t become friends. She taught my children in Sunday school, but frankly, she kind of scared me.

She worked in Intensive Care at the local hospital, was very involved in the church, never married – and was completely dedicated to her nieces and nephews. Probably about fifteen years ago she was in a horrible car accident. It took her years to recover – years spent with multiple surgeries, physical therapy, pain and agony.

She did not volunteer at the clinic for the first few years it was opened. Then someone told me she wanted to be asked. So, I asked her to help us out.

That was one of the best decisions of my life. She became a loyal, dedicated volunteer but more importantly, she became my friend and champion. She had the most generous heart; she always knew when I was struggling – and in the mail or under my door would come a card or a note or a small gift with her words of encouragement.

Her generosity was most evident at holidays. All the holidays – even ones I didn’t know enough to celebrate! There were cards and gifts – never with any fanfare, but always with lots of love and encouragement.

I should have noticed a while ago. First, there were multiple cards and gifts – for the same holiday. But, I never noticed those things. Then, there were some mistakes in the work she did for me at the clinic – not big mistakes, so I just corrected them, and didn’t give it a second thought. Then there was no card for a holiday; then there was no thank you note for a gift given; there were church related issues that were not done in a timely manner – and then lost – and then the accusations that someone else had lost the items.

None of us wanted to admit it. Her physical health was not good, so we attributed it to that. She was hospitalized; we were sure she would be fine. She assured us she would be fine.

But, she isn’t. It is the hardest kind of grief, because it is so mixed with guilt. Guilt about withdrawing; guilt about not seeing it sooner; guilt about not being there; guilt about not knowing how to be there. And grief. Such grief for the loss of a dear friend.