Grief. Unless you are some sort of sociopath, you cannot escape this life without feeling a loss so deep it rips your soul. My first foray into grief was the loss of my PopPop. I was just eighteen. He’d had several small heart attacks so I suppose when he died on his seventh one, it wasn’t a huge surprise to most people. But to me…he and my grandma were my touchstones of unconditional love. I couldn’t tell which hurt worse…losing PopPop, or watching Grandma mourn the loss of the only man she’d ever loved. They got married when she was fifteen. He was her world. It was heartbreaking.

Life went on and we lost Grandma and Mom and my precious Uncle Bob. Each loss brings its own signature…like a fingerprint. Similar features, different effects. The most grievous loss of my life up to this point was when Mr. Virgo died suddenly of a heart attack. I honestly wasn’t sure I’d live through that one. Yet, I did. Life gets better and can be beautiful again, but every death leaves a mark that traces the trails of a broken heart. I have the most amazing extended family. And I have the most wonderful friends. My support network is immense and I am so grateful for them. They have helped me navigate the waters of grief more than once. 

I don’t know if it’s because I’m tired. Or if it’s a let down after Bear leaving. Maybe it’s our impending 50+1 high school class reunion that’s coming up in a couple of weeks. Whatever it is…I’ve really been missing my friend I called Sparky. Diane was a firecracker. She had a wicked sense of humor. She had very little control over her mouth and cussed like a sailor. She was incredibly kind and sensitive, but you do her, or someone she loved, wrong and you rued the day you ever locked horns with her.

Sparky was fair minded. If you crossed a line, she had no problem telling you and for some reason, most people took it and learned from it and tried to be a better person because of her perhaps not-so-gentle correction. I admired the way she shot from the hip. You always, ALWAYS knew where you stood with her. We talked a lot…the majority of which occurred at 3:00 in the morning when we both seemed to be up to go to the bathroom. We both invariably checked in on Facebook when we came back to bed to see what we’d missed. We neither one slept well so we could just about guarantee we would have a conversation in the wee hours of the night.

She was the funniest woman I’ve ever known. Picture any female comedienne and crank her up several notches and you have a pretty fair idea what those of us who were lucky enough to be in her inner circle dealt with on a daily basis. Honestly, I never ate or drank anything when we chatted. I was sure to choke or spit coffee on the screen. 

Sparky got sick in December. She held her cards close to her chest and I’d often find out she’d had pneumonia by the time she was on her second round of antibiotics. This time it was a stomach flu that just wouldn’t let up and we all encouraged her to go to the hospital for IV fluids but she refused. And in a week…she was gone.

It’s been seven-and-a-half months since we lost our colorful friend and I still feel that loss keenly. It sneaks up on me. Diane is my first really close girlfriend who died and sometimes it’s still a punch in the gut when I remember she’s gone. I remember that feeling when I lost Mr. Virgo. Along about the time when he would normally be calling on his way home from work, I’d look up at the clock with a tinge of concern. Why hasn’t he called? Oh. Yeah…

It’s like that at 3:00 in the morning when I get back in bed from a visit to the loo. I pick up my phone and she’s not there anymore. 

I miss my friend. 

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“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”

Psalm 34:18 ESV