Remembering Connie

     The twenty first of November. Has it already been three years?

     I’ve lost so many close friends to cancer that I forget. I can’t let myself dwell on too many of these days of anniversaries or birthdays. I just can't.

     It seems like yesterday she said, “Johnny, I just don’t feel right. I feel so tired. I could just sleep all the time. I have no energy.”

     “You have two teenagers who are involved in everything. You work full time. You never stop,” I replied. “You are probably just exhausted from going non-stop!”

    She cried.

    “No, something feels different. I’m going to the doctor tomorrow.”

     “Mantle cell lymphoma,” she said, after tests and scans and biopsies. One year later, she was gone.

     I'll always be heartbroken, but after so many years of friendship, I choose to remember all the good times.

     I remember the years we all lived in the big Victorian house that I owned in town. I remember being excited when I first bought the house, as we each chose our apartments, and made all the painting and decorating plans for each one.

     I remember the amazing snow storm in April, the first year we moved into the huge home. I remember it getting so cold in the house in the winter time that the water in the iron froze and we couldn't iron clothes. 

     I remember when we discovered the fireplace behind a wall. When we peeled the old boards away,  all the bricks and years of use fell down the old chimney, out into the floor. We could only see the whites of each of our eyes, we were so covered in soot. 

      I remember people thinking that we were a haunted house when we decorated for Halloween, and tried to pay admission to enter. 

     I remember the Christmas open house at the end of the first year, after we had painted every wall and ceiling. Everything smelled like fresh, clean paint and Christmas. We had so much fun decorating the old home.  

     I remember the engagement party we gave for a dear friend. We worked so hard to make sure everything was perfect.  I remember the endless visits from friends as we sat in the swing on the front porch.

     I remember the mornings of coffee and tv aerobics. Thank goodness the ceilings were so tall.

     “We live in the big house,” as we called it. And we loved every minute there. 

     I remember her beautiful wedding to the love of her life. I remember the birth of her two beautiful children.

     But most of all, I remember the precious years I got to spend with my friend. And I will treasure every memory forever. 

     Missing Connie today and every day. From the mind of me.