What a week, or actually two weeks in hindsight, this has been! I’d ask for a mulligan, but in reality, I’m just ready to charge forward.
Two weeks ago my dear friend contacted me to tell me her daughter was killed in a tragic way. Shocking and devastating. There are no other words.
Earlier this week I received a text to learn a former coworker passed away of cancer. She had this very aggressive cancer less than 8 weeks. The family did not have time to prepare before it took her. I worked with her for nearly 12 years. We talked daily when I worked with her. She was the sweetest lady. I stopped by the funeral home to pay my respects.
In my last blog, “We need to take this outside“, I wrote about a nasty fall I took while out running. The fall caught up to me by Thursday afternoon. I had to give in to a sprained ankle. I’m used to spraining my ankle. Good lord…I have sprained it more times than I can count. I have ankles like my dad. They turn in (overpronate) severely. Thanks, Daddy! ha!
My friend who lost her daughter had a memorial service on Saturday. My day was full of karate testings. In between events, I hobbled to the memorial visitation. The room was beautifully decorated with her memories. It was as if you stepped into her home. Shelves were nicely lined with her personal sentiments to give everyone a sense of who she was. The table of chips and salsa were my favorite. My friend and her daughter always shared special moments while going out for chips and salsa. My heart breaks for my friend, her husband, and her family. Parents should never have to feel such loss.
As I start this new week, I feel blessed to hold my dear ones close. I hope my ankle is strong enough to run again by Tuesday. I hope my friend can slowly feel her heart is full of memories as she wakes up each day to see her little grandson smiling at her, as this is a beautiful gift from her daughter.
My friend and I call each other Lucy and Ethel. I’m Ethel because I was the one of sound mind to make good decisions. Lucy…well…she was the crazy one. Lucy and I have been friends since we were 10. We met in 5th grade. Even then she was the wild one and I was the little church-going good girl. I never could find any words to express to Lucy. What do you say to someone who tragically lost their child? Every day, even just today, I send a text that simply says, “Love you Lucy.” She always replies with, “Love you Ethel.”
Look around at all you have. Be blessed!
Peace out, Trout!