Don’t leave it until it’s too late

Today, I received the news that a friend of nearly 20 years had passed away. The only comforting information was that she was surrounded by her family in her final moments.

Selfishly, I’m coming here to write, because I’ve been blocking myself from thinking about it too much since I found out.

But I need to get it out of my head, so here I am.

After I received the text, I wrote a Facebook post so that anyone I didn’t have the phone number for, but might have known her, would see the post and know the latest. Which feels so cold in a way, and a horrible way to find out, but at the same time, I suppose I can forgive myself for not exactly thinking clearly today.

Then I went back into work mode. I needed the distraction. But all I could feel myself doing was spiralling into a hole of anger and resentment towards myself.

So, I busted out the laptop.

I don’t even know what I want to write here. But here goes.

Remembering who she was

My friend, whom I’m keeping anonymous for her privacy and to protect her family, was unlike anyone else I’ve ever met.

When I was fresh out of high school, I took what was meant to be a 12-month break before going back to university. I lasted all of a few months before I was bored. I signed up for a traineeship and joined a local software company. I met my friend through that company, where she started as just an interstate colleague.

For a long time, I only knew her voice (it was a long time before Zoom or Teams would be invented), but I knew that she was hard-working and not to be messed with. She knew her stuff, and she knew how to get results. She was patient and dedicated, but with a sharp tongue that would get you into line. Having raised quite a few children would certainly bring out those traits.

At our first meeting, it was like seeing long-lost family.

We worked together for nearly 10 years. She took me under her wing and taught me a lot. I adored her sense of humour and her infectious laugh (another friend and I reflected today we could still hear it). She would make you feel welcome and instantly at ease.

Later, when I left the company, we stayed in touch. With the evolution of technology came Messenger, and chatting became much easier than a random text message. She followed my blog, and had an uncanny way of reaching out when I was feeling a bit low, and just reminding myself how much she loved being an audience to my journey. She always had a way of reassuring me, letting me know I was doing a good job, and to keep my chin up.

I looked back at our messages today, and it wasn’t long before I was laughing again.

On the topic of breastfeeding:

Just make sure you exercise correctly so your boobs don’t droop down to your knees. Mine are.

On finding out the gender of our child:

He must have had a boner during the scans, as my granddaughter would call it.

She regularly reminded me that I needed to have more babies, and when I told her absolutely not, I would get some quotes like “you’ll cope”. This reply back in 2023 had me burst out giggling, it was in response to a gif from Schitt’s Creek (David saying “that’s not going to happen”).

You disappoint me.

Said completely in jest, of course, with her usual sense of humour. It was just so unexpected that it was hilarious.

When I think back on her, there is nothing but overwhelming love and gratitude for having someone like her in my life during some of my most transformative years. The regular messages of well wishes, asking how the family were going, and reminders to keep writing…

I am so, so lucky to have met her.

I wish I could write her one more message

And this is where the pain ramps up another notch.

I knew she had been sick, and I thought I had messaged. I didn’t follow up. I must have been distracted. And I lost that chance to speak to her one more time.

I didn’t know it was close to the end.

My last message to her was on her birthday in February…6 months ago. Too long ago.

I have so many regrets, and right now, if she were reading this, she would tell me to shut up. I can hear her voice in my head, telling me to stop fussing. She’d say some line in about how it doesn’t matter, and that she knew that I cared. She’d end it with her trademark xx’s at the end to send her love.

So, I would like to think that she can read this from somewhere else, and hear my thoughts.

I’m sorry I didn’t make more time to stay in touch. Every message from you brought such joy to my life, and meant so much more than you will ever know. It was an honour to call you a friend. I hope this post has made you smile. I love you.

The takeaway from this

Appreciate who you have around you. Tell people that you care. Keep in touch, send a message, no matter how out of the blue it is. Don’t get distracted. Don’t wait, or think you’ll have another day.

I’m so glad that we stayed in contact for all these years, and that she took the time to send me random messages here and there.

I can almost imagine the text she would send to me on reading this.

I know she wouldn’t be upset, and it’s helping me to stop beating myself up right now. She would tell me that I’m human, life happens. It’s impossible to make time for everything.

Or….maybe she would send me a message that I disappointed her, and then we’d both laugh about it.

The most important thing is that I smile, and consider myself so, so lucky for having known her at all.

Eternally irreplaceable.