A friend of mine has died.
She was not a “best friend” sort of friend, not a day-to-day, or even year-to year sort of friend, and not necessarily even someone I would have thought, at first, to think of as a friend. But she was the sort of person who would magically appear if things were bad, no matter what the trouble, and who’d stick around until things were good again. Surely that’s the very definition of a friend.
Though I saw her several times in recent memory, the strongest memory I have of her was during a desperate night, several years ago, when I was at the family farm. One of the horses came down with a severe colic, and I spent the longest five hours of my life trying to convince said horse that she really didn’t want to roll on the ground — that’s the sort of thing a horse can die of, and if you can imagine trying to keep an animal four times your size and strength from doing something it wants to do, you can perhaps imagine what a horrifying five hours that was for me.
Eventually, I got Dee’s attention, bless her, and told her to get hold of two people: the vet on mom’s phone, and the aforementioned friend, also a neighbor. At this point it was probably 10 or 11pm; I was already exhausted from battling the horse and near the breaking point.
I’d told Dee to call my friend to help us find a vet, but she wasn’t satisfied with just finding a phone number; she rushed out with as much extra help as she could muster at a moment’s notice — she’d obviously been asleep, but that wasn’t a factor for her. No horse expert, still she came to help and support. Though dishevelled and a wee bit groggy from sleep, her presence, along with Dee’s, made all the difference in keeping me from cracking. Somehow I stayed upright, battling the poor horse the entire way, until 1am when the vet finally came. The horse was saved from our joint effort. I couldn’t thank her enough, but she shrugged it off — it’s something anyone would do, she insisted, as she made her way back home at nearly 2am.
She was not a perfect person; like all of us, she had flaws, some of them difficult. They are relevant inasmuch as having those flaws did not prevent her from being able to rise above them. Perhaps not every day, or every time she was challenged — but then I don’t know anyone who can defeat their own demons every time they appear. The fact that she could, and did, far outweighs the fact that she possessed them, or they her.
I will miss her, but I learned long ago that in life, as in all things, quality is greater than quantity. I am poorer for her passing, and richer for her memory. I hope her family can eventually find comfort in her true legacy, and I wish her safe travels in the great beyond. Adieu, my friend, and thank you.
January 13th, 2006 at 9:38 pm - Edit
Sorry to hear that man, sad to hear of someone losing a friend as well ya know, sometimes friends can be more steady than family.
January 14th, 2006 at 10:12 am - Edit
I remember that night as if it were yesterday.
Unfortunately that was the only time I met her.
Yet fortunately, eventhough the circumstances weren’t that nice, it’s a great memory to have of her as a person.
Don’t know what I would’ve done without her that eve.
January 17th, 2006 at 6:03 pm - Edit
“I am poorer for her passing, and richer for her memory.”
I am moved by the entry but this sentence sums up your entire meaning perfectly. Thanks for the entry i’ve drawn a connection to Dee through your words…