Thursdays are tough. They used to be light, and happy... come Thursday, no matter what was thrown my way I could conquer it with a smile on my face, with that sense of calm from knowing the weekend would be here by close of business the following day. But, now they are just another mark on the calendar, another mark since I lost my best friend to cancer, and another week that has gone by where I can't pick up the phone to ask for advice. Another week goes by that I stay up late into the night trying hard to make meaning of all the conversations we had... what did she mean by this, or that?

It's Thursday, and on this Thursday I am at week 5 since I got the horrible call that my best friend, Bess, at 28, had lost her battle with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. I have to stop myself from texting her everyday, and sometimes I want to call her phone, just to hear her voice again. I never do though, for two reasons: first, I'm sure someone in her family has her phone, and I couldn't fathom making this harder on them, plus, I don't know what I would do should they answer. Second, her voicemail, though lovely sounding, never sounded like her authentic true self.

My life seems robotic so much of the time, I work so hard at my job, come home and have no energy for anything, then I can't sleep. I replay moments we shared - happy times, and sad, I think about a horrible fight we had, and now it seems petty. I sometimes even stay up late at night researching things she described to me once, like her dream wedding dress, trying to find exactly what it would have looked like. I think about our secrets we promised to take to the grave, the literal meaning that now holds haunts me. Our promises to each other, small and large... our plans for our future, both near and close - we stopped planning for events years down the road, as one does in the face of a terminal illness. But, while events were typically only planned in stone a few months max in advance, we planned for life. We talked about growing old together, being batty old women, with rocking chairs and front porches. I stay up late at night reading old facebook and gchat conversations. I flip through my phone, there are so many pictures in it, and I realize some of my fondest memories together are captured only in the photos she took of me on those days, I wish I could go back in time, stop a stranger and ask them to capture the moment of us together.

I cling to stupid material things - her sweatshirt, we always left stuff at eachothers houses with the promise to get them the next time we saw eachother... but we'd always forget, so for months, sometimes years, we'd hang onto these items - integrating them in our own daily lives and then getting upset should the other person want it back. The sweatshirt is like that, only now I can't wear it. I can't even hold it.

When she had to get the bone marrow transplant she said goodbye to her fertility in order to welcome in her future. She asked me one evening, about this time last year, to one day be a surrogate for her. I said yes. It seemed funny at the time, that she'd ask me, the person with major joint problems, to one day carry a child for her. But to do something like that for her wasn't funny, the thought may have been peculiar, but the promise was genuine, and we embraced it together.

She was going to get a Pointer when she was in remission. We were going to go to Miami to celebrate the end of the cancer. We were going to be in one anothers weddings, that was always planned, though for most of our relationship we were both single. Some nights, we'd go out and she'd order us tequila, straight!, on the rocks with extra limes. We'd dance, and drink it, warming our insides, and responding with crazy fictitious stories when people asked if her bald head was a political statement.

I have so many unanswered questions. I can't believe that Milly outlived Bess. It wasn't supposed to happen this way - humans are supposed to live long, prosperous lives. It is as though just being human gives us immortality. Ironic, now.

Yes, Thursdays are hard. I don't know if they always will be, but so far it seems this way. My robotic life continues, a giant hole in my heart, my mind racing with unanswered questions, trying to make meaning of conversations that were never supposed to be meaningful.

It's going to sound crazy, but losing a friend to cancer is much harder (for me at least) than losing a friend in a sudden way would have been. I spent almost two years having to truly believe that she would get better, I couldn't just tell her that, I had to really believe it to provide that strength and support. I had to live each day embodying this belief we each held, and no matter how hard things were, I truly believed we'd get a miracle.

The logical and spiritual side of me both know I got that miracle, Bess got that miracle, when her body was released from this earth and she no longer lived in the chains of cancer. She HATED being sick, but she fought, and she did so in the most beautiful and glamorous way possible.

It has been 5 weeks since the Thursday when she left this world. I still sometimes think this is a dream, a really long dream, and I will wake up and she will be there.

If you're still reading this novella pick up the phone and call your best friend. Tell him/her you love them. Take pictures together. Go have brunch, and order that more expensive bottle of wine neither of you can really afford, but do it because life is short. Do it, and then go on a painful fiscal fast, and after, remember those moments and laugh and cherish them.



A picture of the two of us, and a picture she took of Milly.

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http://www.thewetnose.blogspot.com/

Thank you, for reminding us to tell our loved ones how much they mean to us. I am so sorry about the loss of your best friend. I can't imagine losing mine.

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I am so sorry for the loss of your best friend. Thank you for reminding us to let those we love know that we love them.

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Meet Yogi! http://www.goldenretrieverforum.com/...tion-yogi.html

Thank you for telling us of your Special friend and the path you both walked as she fought her cancer. She was truly a special person and I am sure she needed and felt the love you sent and send her. You are grieving and please give youself time to do this as it is a needed part of the grieving process. Cry, yell, feel all the pain from a friend taken too soon. You need to vent this out. One day you will see something that reminds you of her and it will give you pleasure. Small steps lead to the pain subsiding, and joy in small things return. When it is time, you will start to take pleasure in things you did together again, see the beauty of life and know you are glad you are here to see for both of you. The pain lessens over the years, but the memories remain. I honestly believe if you remember and keep her in your heart she is never truely gone. You will find yourself stronger and if you look you will see her in perhaps the whisper of the wind, a song on the radio. Love isn't seperated by walls, it is inside us all if we but look. Her love, her personality will always be a part of you and you will share it with others in your works and actions as time passes. Each person we love adds to the layers that make us what we are, develope us into the person we might hope to be. So cry and let the memories wash over you for now. It is so soon after her death and you feel a bit lost. When the healing begins you will want her strength to help you move on..and she will! Life has so much in store for you, new discoveries, new experiences, new love. Let her help heal your heart and there will be a time you think of her and SMILE. She gave you so much, now it is your turn to share this with others who need it. Our time is very short here on Earth, love is one emotion we can chose to share or horde. A best friend is the most special one we will have. You have been blessed with the Best!

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Sounds like you have a wonderful friendship, i envy that, i am sorry she passed, cancer really stinks.

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I am so sorry about the loss of your best friend. Cancer robs us of everything that is dear to us, especially time. My BIL is battling cancer now. It is hard on him and my sister but their courage and strength are amazing, each in a different way. I can tell from your post you are an awesome best friend to Bess. Notice I said "are" not "were". Because you will always be best friends, and she is closer to you now, more than you can ever imagine.

Follow Milly's lead. Live in the now, don't let tomorrow or the next day, get in the way of the today. Milly will be glad to show you how it's done. Dogs are great at it, humans suck. Tucker reminds me everyday what is important. May grace and peace find you each Thursday...

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I'm so very sorry that you lost such a good friend. Go ahead and talk to her... I bet she's listening and will have so much to say when the time comes that you two should meet again.

Thank you for sharing... it reminds me just how much we should cherish our friendships and relationship!