Missing my friend

Just a few hours ago my cell phone rang and I didn't recognize the number. But I had the immediate feeling that I needed to answer it. It was the sister of one of the women in my ward. After I said hello, she identified herself and then told me quietly, that this sweet woman in my ward, that I had loved so much, had just passed away. I was devastated. I still am.

This woman, Kathy, was the best. She was gruff and slightly grumpy...and it was all an act. She had been baptized into the church about a year ago. She had only been to church once since we moved to Boston and I became Relief Society president. I picked her up myself and introduced her to the sisters during Relief Society. And it made me emotional when I did because I already loved her so much.

We talked almost weekly. She was going through a lot. Especially for someone that was not yet fifty. She had many health problems and yet she just kept going. She loved her two grandchildren fiercely. She tended them every day, all day.

Almost weekly I would call her. Our conversation always started the same. Every single time.

Me: "Hi Kathy! It's your best friend!"

Kathy, in her grumpiest voice: "Hi Linn."

And then I would proceed to talk and talk, while she gave one-or two-word answers. And after six or seven or ten calls, she started giving me five-word answers. And then ten. And when she would greet me at the beginning of our phone calls her "Hi Linn" was still said in her grumpy voice, but I could tell she was trying not to smile.

About two weeks ago, she stopped answering her phone. I couldn't figure it out and wondered if I had done something to offend her. I even called on her birthday, but had to leave a message. The missionaries from our church dropped by several times and she was never home.

And then on Saturday, the missionaries called with word that Kathy was in the hospital. She had collapsed the day before and was in the ICU. I couldn't go to visit her because I was not immediate family. But I was able to get the phone number of her sister and I called her Sunday afternoon and again today to see how Kathy was doing. She wasn't doing well, but they had hope that things would work out.

And they did. At least for Kathy. But for those two sweet grandchildren that spent every waking moment with her, that adored her and that will have a hard time understanding where she has gone, I'm sure it doesn't exactly feel like it has worked out. And it doesn't seem that way for me right now. Because my selfish self wants to call her to make sure she knows I am her best friend and I love her and that I think of her.

So for tonight I'm just going to be sad. Sad that someone that meant so much to me is gone. Sad that her sweet little ones are missing their grandma so much. Sad that someone I didn't know six months ago has left a hole in my heart. Tomorrow I'll be better. But for tonight, I'm swearing off letting myself get close to any more of these amazing women. Blast. I love them too much. And then the hurt seems like too much to handle. But I know in time it will get better.

I'm telling you though, there had better be a large number of my wonderful friends and family waiting to greet me when I get to heaven (many, many, many years from now). Because I miss them like crazy. And that reunion in heaven is the only way my heart can be completely whole again. And yet, there are nights like tonight when that doesn't seem possible.

But deep inside my broken heart, I know it is.