It’s been two years since my friend, Stacy, passed away. I miss her; her laugh, her sense of humor, her friendship, her big heart and her unique ability to make everyone feel special while being completely unaware of how special she was.
I’m reposting the tribute I wrote to her last year.
RIP my sweet friend.
I love you
An angel you are
But did you know
Your wings were earned
So long ago
I’m dreading this week.
Friday marks the one year anniversary of the death of a good friend. I’ve been dealing with her death the best way I know how. Basically, I’ve been avoiding it. The pain is as gut wrenching today, as it was a year ago.
I’ll start by telling you about my friend, Stacy. We met over 20 years ago. She started out as a customer, but we became fast friends. Our lives paralleled each other. We always seemed to be going through the same type of events or situations. We became close, sharing our secrets, like sisters.
Stacy was brilliant. She had a master’s degree in English. I used to tease her about her inability to read anything but classic literature. I called her a book snob, and told her she was missing out on some really good writing. And yet, if I recommended a book, she would read it and grudgingly admit to liking it. She taught English at the middle school level. She loved that hard to love age group. She was always reaching out and had a kinship with the outcasts, the odd ones, and anyone on the fringe of society. I’m not sure what that says about me, but that’s another blog 🙂
Stacy quit teaching after the birth her son, and stayed home until he started school. At that point, she decided to volunteer, and she taught English to jail and prison inmates. She was passionate about wanting the inmates to get their GED (general equivalency diploma). She felt that they would be able to find a job and avoid jail, if they had some form of education.
Stacy loved her family. She became a mom to her husband’s son from a previous marriage, treating him as her own. It was her younger son, though, that was her pride and joy. He is the spitting image of her, and it hurts like hell every time I see him, but I love that he is a tangible part of her that I can hug.
I started writing my book because of Stacy. She knew I liked to write, and she encouraged me to be serious about it. So I did. I’m still mad at her for leaving me. She was supposed to edit my book. A friend of mine recently said something that is still resonating. He said that I need to get this book out of me, so I can let her live in the pages. So eloquently put. He’s right, of course. And I will get my book written. In the meantime, I’m going to cry and sulk and grieve.
I have one more thing I want to tell you about Stacy. She was a horrible customer!! She was ALWAYS late for her appointments. And if she wasn’t late, she forgot them. I always told her that if I didn’t love her so much, I would’ve kicked her to the curb. God, I miss her!! What I wouldn’t do to have her show up late for her appointment, one more time.
I think back to the last time I saw her. We had a serious conversation. The details don’t matter, but I’m glad I told her I loved her. I feel her presence when I sit at the computer to write. She’s an angel on my shoulder.
I love you, Stacy.