A Shocking Message

"Pennie, this is Birdie. Call me when you get this message. My number is xxx-xxx-xxxx."
I stared at my cell phone. The caller gave no last name. I guess with a name like "Birdie," no last name is needed. I only knew one "Birdie." I hadn't seen her in years - maybe 18, 20? And, she had never called me in my life, that I could recall.
She was one of my best friend's sisters.
My best friend who lived hundreds of miles away now.
My best friend who I hadn't seen in years, but we spoke on the phone regularly.
My best friend who I was supposed to go see in June, but life got busy.
My best friend who had a mastectomy in May, and was so appreciative that I sent a pajama and robe set to...and it arrived at her house the day she came home from the hospital...so she called me the moment she put it on to thank me.
I knew why Birdie was calling me.
I knew it wasn't good.
I knew Connie had passed away.
Died.
Gone.
In her mid-40's.
I can still hardly believe it.
She was the type to try to schedule her mastectomy around the babysitting schedule of her grandson so her single-parent daughter wouldn't need to find an alternate sitter when she went to work. (That was her INTENTION...I'm sure her husband didn't allow it to turn out that way...) That was my Connie. Ever since I've known her, that's how she's been.
I lived with her quite some time while Mike and I were dating. Her husband had left her with three small children and I had just come out of a very dangerous and horrible relationship...so we were there for each other at a really dark time in our lives...and it turned out to be some of the best times of both of our lives. We were the same size - so our wardrobe doubled. They talk about how you should never room with your best friend? We'd laugh at that because it worked out GREAT for us! I'd go to work and help her financially and she'd stay home and did all my laundry and made all the meals - it was this great arrangement! We'd play cards until the wee hours of the morning on weekends some times - and we'd shop together...we'd do EVERYTHING together. When Mike and I eloped and I moved out - it was really hard on her...but I only moved about a mile away and Mike and Connie got along just fine, so it wasn't too hard. Mike respected our "girl time" and he had his own buddies, so all was well. And, when we moved to North Carolina, Mike paid to fly Connie out there to help me set up house.

I can't believe she's gone.
But, her suffering's over, and for that I'm grateful. She's enjoying countless rewards in heaven now - I am confident of that, because she faced every dark situation with more love, joy and patience than most would or could. That was her strength - her tender, sweet spirit that was so evident in everything she did. She was the one who always rooted for the underdog, who took in every stray puppy and defended every picked on person in the vicinity.

She will be missed.
But, I'm glad she was my best friend for a while.
I'm better for having her for that little while.
I'm who I am because she was there for that little while.
She helped make me who I am.
I know that.
She taught me much.
She was there for many lessons I learned.
Ones that matter.
About love.
About strength.
About God.
About friendship.
About resilience.
About once in a lifetime opportunities.
About risk.
About taking a chance.
About who I am.