@zolabundance2 2 May 2021

In memory of a dear friend

The last time I waved goodbye to her was on the way to a funeral. She had attended the mass before we left the funeral home to bury my youngest sister. Her coming was a surprise, and I was scrambling to find her a seat in one of the vehicles so she could come to the cemetery with us. But she declined. I knew she arrived in a cab because she was alone. There was so much to do and think I couldn't really give her my full attention, but she waved me off. She understood and didn't want to be a bother. When I look back, I remember she didn't look well that last time. But I didn't pay attention. I feel guilty, too, because just a few hours earlier, she came to the wake with her son and stayed on until the wee-hours. I could hardly keep my eyes open from exhaustion, but it had been so long since we had seen each other. So, she wanted to talk, and talk, and talk. Little did I know it would be the last long chat we would have. Final message I will always feel guilty for not replying to her last text message. She greeted me on Christmas. I have her number but somehow, her name didn't register that time. I ignored it, while trying to figure out who it might have come from. Stupid me, I should have just replied and asked. It was only much, much later when I finally discerned it was her. By then, it was too late. I'm trying to remember now if I had greeted her on her birthday. She was born November 29, one day before a holiday, so it was impossible to miss. Since knowing her, I have never failed to greet her, whether through a phone call, a visit, or much later, through text messages. It was like a pact - that I would never forget to say Happy Birthday. I hope I did, however belated it was. In our last conversation, she told me of her medical issues. She had a heart problem. It was being managed, and her last doctor's appointment cleared her, although she had to continue with her maintenance medications. I was surprised to find out that her doctor was from the hospital nearby, a 5-minute drive from my house. I chided her for not telling me so I could have gone with her or at least seen her when she was waiting her turn. Through walks and bus rides She is one of my dearest friends, someone I met long ago at work, became close to, and developed a tight bond with. I think that friendship was cemented during our walks to the bus stop from the office, the shared bus rides until she got off first. My best memory of our time together was when I gave her a coloring book and crayons for her birthday. She was in her 30s then. An artist who didn't pursue art, I thought she could use some relaxation time by coloring. We colored together on that birthday I gave her the gift. Slumped on the floor in her living room, we got busy. It was so much fun - making sure not to go beyond the lines, coloring in one direction only, and picking really outrageous colors for the page to stand out. I was a fixture in their home, so I knew her sister, her mother, their lifelong househelper. Then life happened. We both left the company we worked in. She got into retail, which she was very good at, and rose through the ranks. Needless to say, the busyness of life prevented us from spending as much time together as we used to. But there would be occasions when we would see each other during her very late lunch breaks, and we would talk like it was just yesterday when we last saw each other, not months or even years. She was many years older than myself. But we clicked, and connected, and I was often her confidante. Marriage, baptism, death I remember receiving a phone call to tell me she was getting married. She was in her mid 40s, I think. I didn't even know there was someone to marry. But I was thrilled for her, even though apprehensive because the man was many years her junior. Then I panicked because I ended up helping organize that wedding. I was planner, chauffer, girl Friday, and everything rolled into one. But how could I say no to someone whom I held dear? Her honeymoon baby was a boy. I was ecstatic when she gave birth because of her advanced age. Of course, I was a godmother. After giving birth, and the baptism, we rarely got to see each other. Here and there, we would. But there was never enough time to sit down and talk like we used to. She had a family, a job, and I had my life, too. Still, we stayed in touch. If only during November 29 when I would greet her. It would be followed by a chat to ask how each was doing. I didn't tell her about my sister's passing. Somehow, she learned of it, and so it was a huge surprise when her head popped through the door at the wake. I wish our last time together was not in such an ominous place. I was among the first her husband called after her passing. But at the time, I was taking care of my ailing father, who needed to be confined again. And there is the superstition that it was bad to attend wakes when you're tending to the sick. Something to do with bad chi. The news of her sudden death deflated me. It made me more miserable that I could not see her for the last time. I console myself with the thought that my memory of her would be that of a smiling friend, the talkative friend that she always was. I still grieve for her. For the missed chances to be together, to chat. But I will always be grateful for the privilege of being her friend. And humbled that she chose me to be hers, and that she found me worthy to have been part of her life.