Grieving The Loss Of A Best Friend

In 2003 my parents, my two children and I moved into our new home. Marie started befriending my mother shortly after. At first, I thought she was just being a nosey neighbor. I’ve had my share of those.

But something happened. The bond between Marie and my mother transformed into one of the best friendships my mother ever had.

During the years, there were many things that tightened the connection between them.  My father unexpectedly became ill and passed within a few months in 2008.  Marie was also a widow so she completely understood what my mother was experiencing. Somehow, they learned that both lived in Harlem not that far from each other around the same time. They both had children and grandchildren they were crazy about.

My mother, who said she would never become a member of a church again, came home one Sunday and told me she joined Marie’s church. What? How did that happen?

The few times I was with them, Marie expressed how glad she was to have my mother as a friend and how she truly valued what they had. My mother expressed the same appreciation.

One day I overheard one of their phone conversations. My mother wanted to eat breakfast and she was gently trying to get Marie off the phone. But Marie just kept talking. My mother would say, “Ok, I’ll talk to you later” but then Marie would go on to another subject. It was about an additional 20 minutes or more before my mother could end the conversation. It was hilarious.

Out of everything I overheard that day what stood out was how my mother stated that their friendship was one of the things that made moving from Manhattan, where she spent most of her life, to Staten Island worthwhile.

We had no idea of what would occur less than a month later.

I was at work and my daughter called to say she was taking my mother to the hospital to visit Marie. I was thinking it was some type of unexpected minor situation. Marie passed a day and a half later. She was 74 but had more energy and stamina than some 40 and 50-year olds.

Although my heart and condolences were with Marie’s family, I was also deeply concerned about how my mother was going to cope with such a major loss.

Because of this unique friendship, I could not help but grieve on my mother’s behalf.

What I Grieve

I grieve because I know my mother will miss their daily phone conversations which sometimes happened two or three times a day.

I grieve because Marie will no longer blow her horn on Sunday mornings, signaling that she’s outside and ready to drive my mother to church.

I grieve because I know my mother will miss Marie driving her to wherever she needed to go.

I grieve because they will no longer go shopping, spend hours in the store and leave without buying anything.

I grieve over the walks they will no longer take in the park.

I grieve as I remember the time when my mother became sick just before I was to go on vacation and Marie stepped up to the plate and said she would take care of everything so I would not have to miss my trip.

I grieve for the peace of mind I had knowing my 80-year-old mother was not sitting home alone while I was at work.

I grieve for the times when I asked my mother how she spent her day and she replied: “I walked over to Marie’s to visit with her for a while.”

I grieve for the times when my mother would feel like doing nothing and Marie would somehow convince her to leave the house and go outside and enjoy life.

I grieve of the sincere appreciation Marie had for my mother’s friendship.

I grieve because, at my mother’s age, her sphere of contacts is becoming smaller and smaller.

Going Forward

My mother is not one to openly express her emotions and I am not sure how all of this is affecting her.    My goal is to help her adjust. After all, I do not want her suffering in silence. This is her second major loss within the last few years.

I have learned that there are some experiences that cannot be shared with anyone. Family and friends can support and comfort you, but dealing with that particular experience is a journey that each person must go on for themselves.  Death is one of them.

My daughter is home for the summer and is able to be a companion and confidant.  Her granddaughter has been available to take her to some of the places she and Marie used to go and do some of the things they did like going to the doctor and clothes shopping. She needs this right now. At some point, my daughter will have to resume her life, but for now, I am grateful for the comfort my daughter is providing.

Coping with loss is never easy, but for some reason, I think it gets harder as one ages. One good thing is my mother is friendly and enjoys socializing so she’s made other friends. No, they do not hang out or visit each other homes as she and Marie did, but the friendship is there nevertheless.

Scripture says that earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.  All we can do is support and comfort her through yet another life transition as she heals.