Essays: The passing of loved ones
The passing of loved ones is never easy to endure, but when that loved one is a friend from your childhood whose life is cut short far too early, the grief cuts deeper and lasts longer. In April 2005, my childhood friend, Becky, lost her 7-year battle with breast cancer. Becky was my friend since at least first grade, and maybe even earlier. But I first remember her from first grade, when she and I shared a playground, if not a classroom. Through the years, we became good friends, not only at school, but at my grandparents’ farm (later ours), where our property and her parents’ shared a fence, we rode horses together, and we rode my grandmother’s school bus with her siblings and mine. We shared church experiences and our faith. We shared high school, telephone conversations, and later on, times together with our spouses.
Becky was my “go-to girl.” In 5th or 6th grade, she quietly whispered to me one Sunday night at church that we were now too old to hold hands like young girls do. In junior high, when I was bemoaning the loss of a boyfriend, she told me the quickest way to forget him was to find another! She served cake at our wedding reception. I attended her wedding the next summer. Another classmate and I patted her stomach and listened to her soon-to-be-born son, Brent, kick… a thrill for us not-yet twenty-somethings! My husband, Greg, and I traveled to Fayetteville, Arkansas, to Razorback games with Becky and her husband, and I think some in Little Rock, as well. Our husbands were in Jaycees together in the 70′s, so we attended many events with them.
When Becky learned she had breast cancer several years ago, she attacked the situation with her ever-present stoicism. She worked through it – almost literally. She endured chemo, updo loss, and who knows what else. But she never complained. I called her one day while she was in her first round of chemo, and she matter-of-factly told me that, despite cutting her updo short, it was falling out in chunks, so she had just had one of her boys shave her head! She said, “Oh, sometimes I wear a ‘do-rag,’ but it’s so hot that around the house I just let it go!” That was Becky! When my dad died in 1999, Becky attended the funeral with her parents, and after the deaths of both my brother and my dad, she called me to see what I needed… and just to let me know, as only Becky could, that she was available to talk, listen, or whatever. That she came to Daddy’s funeral while so sick herself truly moved me.
Becky
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Tags: Breast Cancer, Grandparents, Young Girls