Thoughts on Love: In Loving Memory

I never thought I’d find myself more than 8,000 miles away and caught up in 13 hours of time zone difference when it was time to say goodbye.

Truthfully, I never thought it’d be time to say goodbye… because I loved you. So, I didn’t say goodbye. I said all I needed to say.

In a video message—slightly longer than three minutes in length.

I told you I wanted to talk to you, and visit, and that I was still here. I was just really far away. I said to let me know if you wanted me to call you and when. I told you I was fine and going through my normal “I can’t believe we just moved again…” funk—and threw in a cuss word (I don’t know about everyone else, but I only cuss around people I love and trust). I told you I was glad to know you had so many people showing up to offer love and support, and I told you I hoped that wherever you were was nice—a good place.

I didn’t practice my video. I didn’t get dressed any certain way, and honestly, if I had to guess, I was probably wearing the t-shirt I slept in the night before. My hair looked a little crazy and certainly like it could use a good wash or at least comb. My glasses were on. My voice was not disguised when I almost started crying.

I don’t think you cared about any of that—because I think you loved me too.

You were the first person to dance to Tom Petty & the Heartbreaker’s American Girl with me.

You were there when I started my first professional job, and you were there when I left it.

You told me the little tiny mystery specs that looked like rice all over my bedspread meant that my new adorable kittens had worms.

You always said, “Good morning, Sunshine!”—and I was never a sunny person in the mornings.

You listened to my stories about life, family, friends, and boys. Even the “dumb” boys you thought could treat me better.

You came to Thanksgiving dinner at my parents’ house, made Italian gnocchi with me, and supported me from first date all the way to wedding day with a deployment in between.

You were a military spouse yourself once upon a time, and you were the only one I trusted when I just had to say the things I knew I probably wasn’t supposed to say out loud about this military life journey.

You “got it” when I showed up at your house from multiple states away and I told you that we needed to talk about something else first—anything else first—because once I said why I was there it’d be the only thing we’d talk about and I just wasn’t ready to talk about it.

You said you must be “pooping paperclips” because you could always find them all over your classroom floor after a day of teaching.

Your nickname stuck because I started it. People I never even met called you that name long after I had moved away.

You were the one that kept up with me after all the moves to new and faraway places.

You were happy the last time I saw you. You were in love. You had a favorite beach to watch the sunsets.

You were supposed to see me after these three overseas years came and went.

So. I said all I needed to say.

In a video message— slightly longer than three minutes in length.

“I love you, Francey.”

And I said it four times. In less than three minutes of that message, I said it four times.

But I didn’t say goodbye.

In loving memory of a beautiful friend lost too soon, today I am sharing some thoughts on love.

Make sure you say, “I love you.”

You’ve heard it before. It’s common advice. Say “I love you” to your loved ones any chance you get. And I really hope you do. They deserve to hear it. Personally, re-watching that video message after my friend passed away, brought me to believe the reason to say it is a little selfish. I really think she already knew. I hope she never doubted it. Now I can remember that I said it to her—and that really matters to me. I don’t have to stew in regrets wondering if she actually did know. Whatever else I said in that three minutes probably doesn’t mean much. I don’t even know if she was completely lucid or if she watched the whole video or even part of it. I’ll never want to accept that she’s gone, but my small peace of mind in losing a friend is knowing for sure: I told her I loved her.

Believe people who say they love you.

I can’t explain why after years and years of relationships with family members, friends, even my husband—there are times where I just catch myself thinking, “Why? You say you love me, but, I wonder why you do.” That kind of thinking certainly isn’t helpful, but it does bring me to a conclusion: It doesn’t matter why. All those little things I just described and wrote about my friend are just little details. They’re all true, but there’s about a million more things I could say and remember when I think of her, and any single one thing I think or remember isn’t the “why I loved her.” I just did. So. I’m going to try to remember—any of the next times someone tells me they love me, I don’t have to wonder why or even care why. They just do. And they aren’t lying when they take the time to say it.

Love your friends.

Harsh as it sounds, there is no obligation to love your friends. There’s no ingrained connection like with family, no contract—like a marriage license or spiritual vow made between spouses. You aren’t responsible for your friends the way you’re responsible for your children. It’s beyond optional to love your friends. But if you do, it’s well worth the experience and makes your friendship that much more meaningful.

Love your life.

My friend who passed away was one of the most positive and grateful people I have ever met. I knew her well enough and long enough to share real things, hard things—things that aren’t positive and you’d have to be just plain crazy to be grateful for—but in spite of any of those, she really loved her life. It was obvious, not just to me, but I think to anyone who met her. She loved all of what life had to offer her and from knowing her, I’m pretty sure that’s the best way to go through this life. Take it as it comes—good and bad, but love your life the whole way through.

The last quote my friend shared sums up so much about the way she lived and loved. I hope you will always be blessed with friends to love and friends who love.

“Each day I am thankful for nights that turned into mornings, friends that turned into family, dreams that turned into reality, and likes that turned into love.” — tinybuddha.com