I'm missing you

A letter to my friend, Sarah.

I still hurt. I am happy that at least you don't hurt anymore. I hate that you had to go through such a horrible amount of pain. I can never know or imagine what you went through, fighting to get back to us. Only you know the point of this whole thing.

I'm very scared - to keep going without you. I know people do this all the time; I know I'm not having the hardest time, I know your kids and husband and mom and dad and brother (and so may others) are probably having a harder time than I. I guess.
I'm still scared.

I just need to call you and tell you funny things, and ask your opinion, and brainstorm insane art ideas, and see if you're free for lunch, and hear about what funny and precious things your kids did today, and vent, and listen to your voice, and hear you laugh. I need to tell you about good sales or good clothes we like so much for ourselves or our girls, and to go through our long list of eating establishments, and then pick one where we will absolutely savor our well-planned lunch. I need this to happen in a matter of one phone call that takes us right to the place where we drive up talking to each other on our phones, yours, of course, being much more within this century. I need to come by and grab you for some estate and garage sale-ing, where we'll reminisc over all the now "vinage" items that we had as kids.

I need you to be at the next P.E.O. meeting, where we will exchange smiles and knowing looks, and our unspoken words will be heard by each other across everyone else. I need to sit next to you and get cracked up when we're not supposed to be, or to help you stop crying when you don't want to be. I need you to call me and make sure I'm going, because you know I might not unless you encourage me.

I need you to be planning to take your daughter with me and mine in a few weeks when we go to see "Wicked" again. I will need you there with me to keep me from sobbing uncontrollably because you won't be there.

I need you to tell me how to best help your kids and husband and family and friends.

I need to see the pink in your hair. I need you to be here to take my daughter with you the next time you got "re-pinked."

I need you here to help me while I raise my girls. You are my biggest supporter and validater of how I'm doing it.

I need to know that you were going to be the friend that didn't move out of our town; that we were going to stay here and be very old together. You left before we got our tattoos.

And I need to hear my phone ring and have it be you.

I hope you know, my friend, that the girls and I are now trying our best to have the pink in our hair remind us every time we see it, on ourselves and on each other, that we must live as much like we watched you live as we possibly can. We are trying to follow your examples as much as we can.

You were/are so good. So incredibly good.

"Because I knew you. . .I have been changed for good." (Glinda and Elphaba)