On December 3rd, I watched my friend die. I am still processing the emotions. Death's echo lingers for a long time after the last breath is taken. I was with her family in the hospital room when her heart stopped beating, and stayed with her lifeless body after the doctors pronounced her gone and the priest read last rights. Being forever gone did not feel real when her body was lying there. She seemed merely sleeping.
I am still processing her death, and my presence at her end. I sold life insurance for many years, and a woman I was selling a life policy took my hand one day and said, 'You're an angel, you know."
"What kind of Angel?" I asked. I'd been called angel of death many times by people I sold final expense, burial plans and was not particularly fond of the title.
"A good one," she said. You're a light in dark moments."
I like to think that I was helpful to her in her final few months.
Lindy was an exceptional human being. We both worked for the same company and were on the same team many years ago. I recognized her as a kindred spirit despite our vastly different personalities and upbringing. It's those differences that marks the backdrop and strength of our friendship.
She was bubbly and sociable with rosy cheeks, piercing eyes, and an infectious giggle. She made friends with everyone, and was always up for after work cocktails. Some men took her friendly personality as an invitation to make inappropriate comments and propositions everywhere we went, but she always had a smart, assertive way of handling those who tried to mishandle her.
I was reserved and a consummate professional, always immaculately dressed in fancy suits, high heels, oiled skin and an impenetrable demeanor that did not invite unwanted advances, inappropriate comments, and no one dared touch me without permission. I worked, made my money, and rejected any offer to socialize after work. I was labeled anti-social and was to a certain degree, but I didn't care what people thought of me. My goal was to make money. She often joked that I was unapproachable.
Lindy and I kept in touch after we both left the company. We had a strong background in communication, and being avid readers we connected intellectually. We could talk about anything. We discussed many life issues; books, art, children, womanhood, and sensitive social issues that are not easy for a black woman and a white woman to speak about. She was different. We checked each other's biases and offered different perspectives on ways to look at things. No one caught feelings, got offended, felt judged or misunderstood.
Recently when I needed a friend and a place to stay while I transitioned through a difficult situation, she was there for me. It didn't take long after reconnecting to realize that she was fighting her own battle and needed me as well. Her death just a few months after we reconnected has left me shaken, reminding me of the urgency to collect my reserves and do whatever is necessary to break chains and start living again. Watching her die was devastating, and may have been the pain and shocking reality I needed to not waste another second of my life.
Both intelligent, educated, accomplished, seasoned women who were twice married and raised families, we often discussed the trajectory of our lives. At our age, we planned on living our best lives. Neither of us was where we planned to be and doing what we dreamt of doing. She had just turned 48; dying young before we accomplished our dreams was not part of our plan. I have a softness and appreciation for her that will last beyond this life. She loved nature and trees and spoke often about her grandma's oak tree in the backyard. I will plant a tree in her honor.
In Remembrance
Linda B.
09.26.1975 - 12.03.2023
Memorial:
12.17.23.
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