A memorial. Or, things that keep Nana awake at night

A little over a year ago, my Canadian friend, Mark, and I went on a trip to Vernal, Utah. Our primary purpose was to visit our mutual high school friend, Debbie, but it turned into a reunion with several old friends.

Last Thursday, Debbie passed away suddenly of a heart attack, leaving her beloved husband, four children, and several adored grandchildren. I cannot describe how bereft I feel. 

Two years ago, Debbie was just a distant memory. Then I got a message from her on an Old Friends website. To be honest, I was a little reluctant to respond, because our friendship as teenagers was, to put it nicely, volatile. We went through the usual stupid cliquey behaviour which is exhibited by most young girls. For a while, we were best of friends, but then loyalties shifted and we ended up on opposite sides of a rivalry. I remember being unkind to Debbie, although it might have been that I was only unkind in my head, because in our many subsequent conversations she only had good memories to share.

Ask me if I regret my infantile adolescent behaviour.

Oh yes, indeed I do.

The thing I have most enjoyed about getting to know Debbie again is her good, generous heart. 

The same heart that betrayed her last Thursday night.

She was so thrilled that Mark and I made the effort to visit her. I felt guilty all over again for my feelings of superiority towards her all those years ago. 

I loved watching Debbie and her sister, Becky, interact. They were best friends and, as Becky has told me, were always plotting and planning together. 

We have had many conversations online about our fears (her boy just completed a tour of duty in Afghanistan) and joys. She adored her grandbabies and, like me, loved to plan outings with her friends and extended family. She kept promising that she and Wade would come to Oregon for a visit. 

This was supposed to be the year. 

Some things you should know about Debbie. She was an avid Utah Jazz fan and relished attending their games. She loved the Oakridge Boys. She was a woman of faith and intelligence and conservative politics. She was a patriot and a thinker. The week before her death she wrote this letter to the editor in the Vernal Express. She loved to garden.

Debbie was an avid reader of this blog, although she rarely managed to navigate Google sufficiently well to actually leave a comment. Many times she sent me a message on facebook with her thoughts about a post.

Which reminds me. Deb and I have very similar thoughts on death and dying. She left a comment as "anonymous" on this post. If you haven't read that post about death, I recommend it as one of my better ones. 

Becky informed me that Debbie wrote out instructions for her funeral several years ago. 

Kindred spirits.

I will miss Debbie's honest communication and her generous spirit. I wish we had been able to have more years of being friends. True friends of the mind, after all this time.

I've had trouble getting to sleep this week, thinking about her and her family.

And about Sam and Charlie. 

Charlie is off to Afghanistan this weekend and this mother's heart will know not a moment of peace until he is safely home again.

I can only imagine how Sam is feeling.

Prayers are appreciated.