Thank You for Being a Friend
by Brooke Kemp
Your late 20s are notorious for life-stage change. With demanding work schedules, spouses and babies, it becomes increasingly easy to put the people outside of your immediate family who bring you joy on the back burner. It is a bittersweet transition that truly makes you have to question your priorities.
The day Deb got diagnosed, Doreen called me at 4:30 am and told me she got news they found cancer. I sat alone in the darkness of my living room, trying not to wake my husband, with a bulging lump in my throat, knowing in that moment that our lives would never be the same. The day you remember as the “after” when comparing it to the fond before.
Being the pragmatic nurse I am, I thought about how this would work. Doreen living in another country and the majority of our family in Cape Breton. Reflecting on the burden of illness and Deb living alone, I knew this would complicate an already difficult journey.
In the chaos of the day that followed, I rallied the troops of our local Halifax family to bring people together, to use family as an anchor. To my surprise though, it was Deb’s friends that anchored us all that night. So many of them showed up to figuratively and metaphorically surround her. It was foreshadowing for the next 16 months, of friends coming great distances, putting their busy lives on hold, to walk at least part of the journey alongside a dear friend.
Her local group turned into a physical support system, giving up their time, homes and resources to support her. They were so willing to do anything in their power to help, even after she was gone. It allowed her to stay in her home for as long as she did and dramatically improved her quality of life. I truly can’t imagine what it would have been like without their support. Their generosity and kindness made a horrible situation brighter.
The day of Deb’s interment, I was surprised by the part I found the hardest. It was simply sitting around the kitchen table, wine glass full, listening to tunes, just as she would have wanted. Her friends telling stories from 16, listening to The Rankin Family - driving around for the sake of something to do, to fabulous international trips, lavish birthday parties, and everything in between.
The lump in my throat I experienced alone in the darkness of my own home 16 months ago came back. It was so obvious how much Deb meant to them and how much they were going to miss her. I thought about my own friends, who I shared the same stories with, and the absolute anguish of losing one of them at the young age of 51.
Suddenly the burden of remembrance didn’t feel as heavy though. I realized that she had lived her life in such a way that it wasn’t just up to us as her biological family to mourn her. She had so many friends that she genuinely considered her family, and they would carry her memory on.
Deb and I only shared 10 years together as adults, but I was fortunate to learn countless things from her. The greatest being how important it is to continue to foster relationships with those who matter to you. “For better or for worse and in sickness and in health” shouldn’t just apply to your spouse. Be the person who shows up for people no matter what you have going on. Make time in your busy schedule, because you will never get that time back, and you never know what diagnosis, accident, or hardship might be coming. Thank you to Deb and her wonderful friends for reinforcing the importance and power of female friendship when I needed it most.
In an increasing automated world, human connection matters more than literally anything else. In the end, all Deb needed was her loved ones. So today, in remembrance of a life well lived, call up a friend and plan a get together, and tell them what they mean to you. Life is short, live accordingly.