Missing my friend.

Today is Friday the 13th - and I'm not feeling lucky. I lost an old friend yesterday. She was due a birthday on September 6th - a day I seemed to miss every year as it was always close to Labor Day and the flurry of activity that starts the school year. Kim was quiet. She never made me feel bad that I missed the day. One year, I invited her for dinner at my house, on the day. I made sure she was unaware of the preparations made and simply asked her over to celebrate. When she arrived I had a whole table set, in the back garden, with china, music and candles. She was so touched and I was so happy to finally be able to surprise her by not only remembering but celebrating in style.

Kim didn't require alot of our friendship. She needed little coaxing to talk about her life...although that changed in the last few years. She remained fairly "open" with me. We met in Mr. Croll's English class at Stevenson High School. We were united in our distaste for this gentleman and for his obvious lack of any kind of buttocks...! We laughed alot and that made it fun, those growing years.

We travelled the rest of the school years together. It seemed as if she was always "sorry" about something. Many times I would say.."there's no need to apologize. Stop!" I knew, from the beginning, that she was different from my other friends. Darker, in spirit. I knew there had already been times in her life when she had felt worthless. Heady stuff for a teenager. She was the proverbial still water that ran deep.

After high school we lost touch for a bit. She had jumped into a marriage and was pregnant when I met up with her again at a baby shower our mutual friend threw for her. We picked up right where we had been. She was twirling with her responsibilities. Later, when I saw her in the hospital after her third child was born, I knew that her marriage was not going to hold up. She continued on, after the divorce, and she wound her life around her children. She continued to twirl - to push and prod them on to better things. Kim was a good mother back then, by most standards. I remember being impressed with her children's manners and how her first born - maybe 6 at the time - answered the phone. "James residence, Casey speaking". She insisted on it. Her southern background demanded it.

She also remained the still water. A fact we often joked about when the gal pal pack went out to dance away our troubles. We'd often joke.."Stop talking our ears off, Kim!" when, in fact she had been silent. She would wait for the right opportunity and say something that made us cry with laughter.

One time, we met for a late night bite. I can't remember if it was after something we did or if we just met up but we ate greasy yummy food. She said we had eaten "as if we were going to the chair!" I still laugh over that and pull it out on occasion, always referencing Kimber.

This last year was a hard one with Kim. She was tremendously fragile. The day of her daughter's wedding she burst into tears at breakfast. She was completely overwhelmed. Hard to say if she was dealing with her demons of shame and guilt or simply trying to wrap her mind around the obvious happiness of the day. I think she had a hard time with being happy. She was constantly stalked by Depression.

It was harder and harder for her to lay down the load she carried and laugh.

She came to see me on closing night of "Gypsy". She was so very excited about attending and told me so over and over in the month before. She thought my co-star was cute. She was always checking out folks. Always pointing out the cuties and describing what she'd do, given half a chance. Her dry humor remained with her until she slipped into a sleep that she, ultimately, would not wake up from.

She was working at St. Mary's during my mother's last week of life. She came in and paid her respects. I'm glad my mother is not here today to know that Kim passed away just short of 48th birthday. It would have hurt her.

How can I sum of a 35 year friendship? Can't. Here are just a few thoughts on our time together.. Listening to the Rolling Stones (her obsession!) and attending concerts together. Having morning coffee. Taking a walk here and there where I would prod her for info on her life and her thoughts. Sitting and talking in her kitchen or mine. How she'd listen to my stories and I'd listen to hers. Her love (and hate) relationship with food. Her amazing massage abilities. How she's have to "hole up in a closet with a flashlight" to study for all the certifications she was awarded in her life. How she walked across the stage at the Millennium Center graduation from Dorsey Business School with a little spring in her step even though she had only been out of the hospital a week. The times she and I would get away to just sit and talk about everything. She was the first friend to sit in my house, just after we closed on it and got the keys. How she commiserated when I went through a divorce. The New Year's Eves we spent together at my house with my parents when they were elderly, drinking champagne together and talking.The times she spent the night, in the basement of my childhood home and how we stayed up till dawn. Her cooking and how she always showed up with Greek salad or meatballs at the parties I threw. Her sunny send off on my wedding reception DVD - "Rose and Stephen, may you live as long as you want to and want to as long as you live!" How much she loved relating stories about her granddaughter. Her ability to tell a story - sometimes over and over! - and her delight in the telling. How proud she was of her children and their accomplishments. How I wish I had never believed her when I called her up to hang out and she said she was "fixin' to go to the store." How she will miss meeting her second granddaughter in the next few weeks. Too many regrets to mention so I won't dwell there.

She has been slowly dying this past year. She was in the hospital twice before this last time and I was always the one to be sent over to "look" at her. (I live the closest to her). I will never forget the face that greeted me on those occasions. Certainly not the face of my friend but the face of her addiction and despair. I think I finally saw the demons that stalked her all those years and it frightened me. It also made me realize that there was nothing I could do but offer love. Kimberly had a hard time accepting it. She felt unworthy, I think.

I wonder what she thought of all the people who filtered in and out of her hospital room these last couple of weeks. Or the vigil her three children kept until the moment she left them. I wonder if she is somewhere near scratching her head and saying.."Wow, they really did love me."

Yes, honey, we really did. Now we are so sad that we couldn't have told you sooner or more often - to make it stick.

The light of God surrounds you. The love of God enfolds you. The power of God protects you. The presence of God watches over you. The spirit of God lives within you. Wherever you are, God is.

Truly, my prayer is that you rest in peace, my friend. I love you and I miss you.