A good friend

When I was in high school, I did a really rotten thing. I dumped an old friend to be part of the cool group. She eventually became part of the group but didn't have the insecurity of needing to belong like me so she was always a 'fringe' member.

Little did I know at the time that, although these new friends were the popular girls, they were actually really nice. They have remained my lifelong friends and we still get together all the time. When we're not seeing each other, we all communicate through emails (but they're all resistant to facebook for some reason.)

This group of friends is so meaningful to my life, I am continually reminding myself how blessed I am to have them. Over the years, we have all grown closer. Each one of us recognizes the unique bond we have.

When The Swede was sick, I leaned on them for emotional support. In particular, one friend, N, helped me the most.

N had been married to someone with a mental illness and she understood what I was going through. She checked in with me regularly. She gave advice and prayers. We had literally hundreds of lengthy emails back and forth on the subject. She listened to me pour my heart out and always seemed to say just the right thing to give me the boost I often needed.

Six years ago, she found out she had breast cancer. She had a double mastectomy and chemo. She divorced her bi-polar husband. She and her three children moved in with her mother and she struggled to support her them while going through this battle.

She eventually recovered and, last year, was able to buy a small house. In February, she found a job she loved and paid her enough to support her children independently. It was finally all coming together for her.

Then, in March, the cancer came back. This time, it's in her bones and lung. She will most likely not survive this battle. She will be the first of us to go.

I am so sad.

She shows grace and strength everyday.

I can't stop crying.

I want to take it away and let her enjoy her life.

I can't imagine what it would be like to live your life thinking that every holiday may be your last. Or going along with the day-to-day routine, not wanting to make this sickness the center of your children's lives but still wanting to spend every possible minute with them.

I can't imagine it.

I can't stop thinking about it.

Her daughter graduates high school in June. She is hosting a big celebration and wants her house spruced up for the event. She asked for my help. I am honored and thankful that she gave me something to do that will make her a little happier. And since I can't heal her, it's what I can do.

So, that's where I've been, working on a house for my good friend.

And crying.