A week ago, my friend Joy passed away. She had been battling cancer for almost three years, and we knew that she didn't have too much longer on earth after it spread to her lungs and liver. But I still wasn't prepared for it to happen so soon. We had been texting last month, trying to plan a time to get together this Christmas, and I honestly had no idea that it was so close to the end.
Joy and I had been friends since seventh grade, where we met on the basketball team at Pine View Middle School. Instantly, we had a connection, which we maintained all through high school. She and I played volleyball, basketball and softball together, so we naturally spent a lot of time together. And while we didn't exactly run in the same social circle outside of sports, I considered her a really good friend. We sweat together, won together, lost together, laughed (a lot) together, and even cried (some) together.
After we both got married (she to her high school sweetheart, Ben), we sort of drifted apart. Literally. She and Ben moved to Oregon and Jeff and I moved to Ohio for school. And life went on. We no longer spent time together, and except for the occasional Christmas card, we weren't a part of each other's life. My mom would bump into her occasionally at cancer meetings, and that is how I found out about her diagnosis (melanoma) and then mutual friends would keep me updated on how she was doing (Joy wasn't on Facebook or any social media, so she wasn't easy to keep tabs on). She wasn't a part of my every day life. Which is why I was surprised at how difficult the news of her death was.
Friends aren't supposed to die at age 33. That's all I kept thinking about all weekend. I went home for the funeral, and seeing her husband and her two little kids really broke my heart. It's just not fair that her family has to go on without her, and her kids have to grow up without a mom.
At her funeral, her brother in law talked a little about a blessing she received from Elder Holland. While he didn't say anything specific that was in the blessing, he said that when Elder Holland got up to leave, he looked Joy in the eye and said, "Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ come first. Family comes second.. It's a close second, but it's second." It's one of the main things that has brought me (and my mom, I know) comfort. Yes, Joy's family needed her here. But her family comes second. For some reason I may never understand, it was part of Heavenly Father's plan that Joy leave this earthly life. And He comes first.
There were so many people there at her funeral, and I know they had to have been touched. The spirit was very strong, and I know that I left feeling like I need to be a better person. I need to be a better mother and wife and friend. Joy definitely left a legacy behind, and this experience was definitely one I won't soon forget.
***
My mom and I were sitting in the chapel, waiting for the funeral to start, when I got a text from Kimmy, who was home with the little boys. It said, "I think Carter might need stitches."
Great. We've been there before.
I had her send me a picture of it, and I agreed. He needed stitches. But it wasn't bleeding much and I thought he would be okay until I got home. He was.
I took him to Instacare later that afternoon and he got his fourth set of stitches in his short 3.5 years of life. This one was a bit more difficult, because the NP stitching him up wanted to drape his face so he couldn't see. He hated that. He couldn't see anything that was coming and was afraid that every time she would poke him it would hurt. I had to help hold him down so that they could get the stitches in, but eventually it was over. And he got a donut. And couldn't have been happier.
Pic from Kimmy
Kimmy kept him wrapped up
Waiting at Instacare
Four stitches later
1 comment:
wow. i'm so sorry for your loss. that quote from brother holland really hit me too. it's a good reminder. a tough one, but good. i'm going to remember that. thanks so much for sharing.
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