“We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible wth ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.”
To be honest 2014 has begun with challenges. Some times, when I think about the last two weeks, I simply shake my head and wonder when someone will turn off the surprises. On top of everything that has been going on with my dad, this Monday night, as I was getting ready to go into dinner with my husband, my mom called me. It was great that she called me, but I had honestly just gotten off the phone with her about ten minutes ago and really considered not answering the phone. Curiosity got the best of me so I answered, even though I hesitated because I was parked next to my husband and I was getting ready to go eat some cheese dip (I love cheese dip). She said she had bad news, and then said, "Your grandma died." I sat there for what felt like forever. And I remember saying, "Mom, your mom?" and then a tear rolled down my cheek. I could not find words to comfort my mom, whose husband has been in the hospital, fighting for his life for the past nine days (my dad got out of the hospital on Friday, and this was the following Monday). As I got off the phone, I climbed into my husband's car and started to yell. I might have cursed (okay, I cursed). He held me for a while, and we left (needless to say, he got the cheese dip to go as I made my way home.)
As soon as I got home, I made two phone calls. First, I called my sister. She was in the same state I was, trying to get everything together to be gone for days because she is a first grade teacher and was going to miss three epic classroom days (I mean, in my sister's classroom, most days are big, but these three days just happened to be the most epic of the school year concluding with the annual first grader chocolate feast and sugar high/coma normal people call Valentine's Day). She would, in traditional Elizabeth style work it out with grace and be amazing. Then I called Jessica. Jessica is my person. I mean, I think Jessica is a lot of people's person, but she is also my person. Jessica has twin two year-olds, and yet she always manages to answer the phone. She answered, and I told her my grandma died, and she sat there for a minute. I felt so much better than I had--just sitting in the silence, knowing she was on the other end of the phone line. I didn't need her to say anything. We talked, and then she made me laugh about the grape juice hair treatment she had received at her dinner table. I told her I loved her, as I always do, and then I was able to sleep.
This blog is about what I cherish. As a kid growing up, I was kind of lonely. I made friends cautiously because I am different and often people labeled me as weird. I was afraid to trust someone with my true self, afraid that they wouldn't get me. I didn't understand how much it means to have a person--a no strings, I love your weirdness, person. But as an adult, I have learned that being afraid to reveal your true self leads to a lot of acquaintances who call themselves friends, and to go through life that way would be to miss one of the most joyous connections a person could ever experience--true friendship.
The next morning, as I was teaching, I kept looking at the door because Jessica teaches next door to me, and every morning while I am teaching, she comes in my room and hugs me tightly. I hug back, and my students know the day has officially started in the best possible way. She came in my room, and hugged me, and I shed just a couple of quickly wiped away tears. I knew I would make it through the day and through the next whatever that would come my way.
My mom called me that evening to tell me that when she and my sister got back to the hotel room, as they walked in she thought she was in the wrong room. She wasn't. The room was filled with food and wine and comfort. It was my mom's forever friend, Buff, who took off from her work, went shopping, and left my mom and my sister and I enough food for the three days we were there. My mom has been friends with Buff since they were teenagers. Buff was at every single difficult moment during the last three days. She stood silently in the back, knowing when to come forward and be a shoulder for my mom. Knowing when to sit back in silence. I will forever love this woman because she offered to my mom what no other human being on the planet can--a person who chose to be there because she loves my mom and has decided to be there, no matter what.
At my grandmother's funeral, everyone talked about what an amazingly classy, beautiful, remarkable woman my grandmother was. As I was cleaning her desk, I found three Clinque brand lipsticks (in her perfect shade) because it would be an unforgivable sin to leave the house or answer the door without lipstick, a truism she held throughout her life, even though she suffered greatly from Alzheimer's Disease. But, what I will always cherish, was the time after the service talking to so many women who loved my grandma for their friendships. The New Year's Eve parties, the coaches wives club, the coffee shop. Women who loved my grandma because she was their person. I knew my grandma had had an excellent life.
Each day while I was gone, I received the same text, "You safe?" from Jessica. And each day that text made me smile. With friendship in my life, I will always be safe, no matter what comes my way.
As soon as I got home, I made two phone calls. First, I called my sister. She was in the same state I was, trying to get everything together to be gone for days because she is a first grade teacher and was going to miss three epic classroom days (I mean, in my sister's classroom, most days are big, but these three days just happened to be the most epic of the school year concluding with the annual first grader chocolate feast and sugar high/coma normal people call Valentine's Day). She would, in traditional Elizabeth style work it out with grace and be amazing. Then I called Jessica. Jessica is my person. I mean, I think Jessica is a lot of people's person, but she is also my person. Jessica has twin two year-olds, and yet she always manages to answer the phone. She answered, and I told her my grandma died, and she sat there for a minute. I felt so much better than I had--just sitting in the silence, knowing she was on the other end of the phone line. I didn't need her to say anything. We talked, and then she made me laugh about the grape juice hair treatment she had received at her dinner table. I told her I loved her, as I always do, and then I was able to sleep.
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| Jess and I freezing at Wildcat Soccer! |
This blog is about what I cherish. As a kid growing up, I was kind of lonely. I made friends cautiously because I am different and often people labeled me as weird. I was afraid to trust someone with my true self, afraid that they wouldn't get me. I didn't understand how much it means to have a person--a no strings, I love your weirdness, person. But as an adult, I have learned that being afraid to reveal your true self leads to a lot of acquaintances who call themselves friends, and to go through life that way would be to miss one of the most joyous connections a person could ever experience--true friendship.
The next morning, as I was teaching, I kept looking at the door because Jessica teaches next door to me, and every morning while I am teaching, she comes in my room and hugs me tightly. I hug back, and my students know the day has officially started in the best possible way. She came in my room, and hugged me, and I shed just a couple of quickly wiped away tears. I knew I would make it through the day and through the next whatever that would come my way.
My mom called me that evening to tell me that when she and my sister got back to the hotel room, as they walked in she thought she was in the wrong room. She wasn't. The room was filled with food and wine and comfort. It was my mom's forever friend, Buff, who took off from her work, went shopping, and left my mom and my sister and I enough food for the three days we were there. My mom has been friends with Buff since they were teenagers. Buff was at every single difficult moment during the last three days. She stood silently in the back, knowing when to come forward and be a shoulder for my mom. Knowing when to sit back in silence. I will forever love this woman because she offered to my mom what no other human being on the planet can--a person who chose to be there because she loves my mom and has decided to be there, no matter what.
At my grandmother's funeral, everyone talked about what an amazingly classy, beautiful, remarkable woman my grandmother was. As I was cleaning her desk, I found three Clinque brand lipsticks (in her perfect shade) because it would be an unforgivable sin to leave the house or answer the door without lipstick, a truism she held throughout her life, even though she suffered greatly from Alzheimer's Disease. But, what I will always cherish, was the time after the service talking to so many women who loved my grandma for their friendships. The New Year's Eve parties, the coaches wives club, the coffee shop. Women who loved my grandma because she was their person. I knew my grandma had had an excellent life.
Each day while I was gone, I received the same text, "You safe?" from Jessica. And each day that text made me smile. With friendship in my life, I will always be safe, no matter what comes my way.
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