They sat behind me.  A group of pretty young women.  The familiarity between them evident… a comfort level between friends… co-workers.  Common souls with clinicians’ hearts, spending days… years together.

A conference.  I’ve been to countless… absorbing and re-absorbing medical details, clinical jargon so familiar to me.  A life before my mama life.  A momentary re-awakening to hibernating areas of my brain.

These young women… seemed almost like girls to me.  I smiled to myself.  They looked almost familiar… a look in the rearview mirror.

I peered to the empty seat next to me.  Searching.  But for a moment, a tugging memory… the voice in my mind almost audible.

Girl, what do you want to do tonight?

The voice vanished.  I looked back, smiled.  The plans would be theirs.  My friend, my school mate, my comrade in the joy and madness of clinical practice… therapy with the injured… my pretty young friend… she is gone.

Our friendship began in college, continued through years of graduate studies, carried over into the workforce… in the same hospital.  We were sisters in arms.  We worked, we played… our group of friends… spanned decades.

Funny, how a moment jolts a memory… in just a blink.  A laugh between friends… whispers of agreement… arms of comfort.  These young women.  They reminded me of us.

A thought.  I scrambled for my phone.  The text.  When was it?  I had saved it.  A treasure for just this moment.  Searching.  There!

Girl   i was just texting to find out when you were having the baby and i found this    congrats

she is gorgeous

ill call soon

She never did.  It was the only picture of my baby that she ever saw.

Her sister would be the one to kiss my baby’s head… a kiss passed on from her auntie… this kiss given at my friend’s funeral.

I smiled, as if nudged on the arm by my invisible companion in this room.

The text was a year ago… to the day.  I just wanted to remind you to look.

The last months, a struggle.  My friend, disappeared into His arms.

I can’t help but hold on the last text.  The last voice mails.  It is odd to hear her voice… but, I listen.  Just every once in a while.  I miss her voice.

Pictures I have seen.  Her loving husband.  He fought so hard, right by her side.  He loved her well.  A dad filling shoes of a father and mother with grace.  The pictures… a beautiful smile next to his.  The face of a pretty woman peering through the lens… leaning on his shoulder.  It is not the face of my friend.  She does remind me of her a bit.  Bright smile… the dark hair… shining eyes.

This a young mother… walking through her own loss.  Raising young children without their dad.

The two smiles… a visible comfort.

It is an odd feeling… this joy… and pain… all at the same time.

Joy to see his face lit in happiness.  The sorrow on that face had lingered in my mind.  The prayers from my own little ones… for the comfort of this dad… traveling alone down this path of parenthood.

Pain, too.  She is really gone.  Something so suddenly… final.  A gift as I hear another whisper…

She is with Me

Do not be afraid

The joy swells over the pain like a crashing wave.  A gift from Him.  These two souls to meet.  All in His timing.

A message… from the third of our musketeer pack…

he has a girlfriend.  Is that ok?

This mixture of joy and pain running through her mind as well.

it’s ok.  it’s God’s timing.  He’s better at it than we are.

The joy.  The joy in this very truth.  He is better at it than we are.  Trust.

He will teach us… to catch… and… to release.

Psalm 62:8

Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.