Missing LBH

One of my dearest, lifelong friends passed away earlier this year, Loretta Beth Heile Hancock, or as she was known to me, LBH. I used to tease her right after she got married that I found it very thoughtful of her to marry someone with the last name that had the same initial of her maiden name, that way my pet name for her didn't have to change. How long ago that seems. A lifetime and a death has occurred since then. I miss her, some days more than others. I find myself still picking up a phone to call her to share some little tidbit that is important to me that only she would understand. Sometimes late at night I find that the memories won't stop running through my mind, and the tears start to flow, and I wonder if I'm slowly losing my mind, or if this is normal, a part of the stages of grief that one must go through to get to the other side of a death.

Maybe it's that this is a holiday weekend, or that I got to see her kids, but I can't get her out of my thoughts today. She's been on my mind quite a bit. Truth be told there hasn't been a day in the last 30 odd years that she didn't run through my mind at least once, even during the times that we weren't in as much contact as we once were. Death hasn't changed that. What's changed is the brutal realization that all the things I would store up to share with her won't be shared anymore. That file on the computer, with all the little ideas and projects that I would send her won't get sent anymore, that the good or bad news of the day and the week stay with me, that the pride and joys of everyday life stop here.

In one of our last conversations she asked me who I was sharing all the little details with- I had screened back tremendously what I shared with her, with the idea that she had enough of her own troubles to deal with, cancer, young children, husband, that she didn't need to her my trials, tribulations and heartbreak. In doing that I did myself and her a great disservice. I lost time and memories that will never be regained. I wish with all my heart I could change that.

I think the thing I miss most about her is the history we shared, all the ups and downs. The idea that I could share my deepest thoughts with her and not have to worry that she would find me strange, or think I was crazy. And that she could do the same. Friends like that don't come along every day. I've been blessed to have a few relationships like this in my life, but the one I shared with LBH was the longest, and as I grow older that is so important to me.

Her death makes me wonder what it's like on the other side, what is to come, and what can I do before it comes. Who can I touch, who can I love and what good will life be. I find myself clinging, (maybe too much) to the people that are still here, and worrying about things I can't control. I keep reminding myself of the scripture that tells us to not worry about tomorrow for today has enough troubles, and yet it's so hard.

I miss you Lori. You are loved.