Around here, the a variety of flowers have bloomed and faded, sunny days have interspersed with many rainy ones.
I'm planning our wedding and feeling behind most of the time. I'm working two jobs six days a week because... well, making money beats spending it if possible and I don't mind the work.
All of that also means I've had very little time to sit and write and contemplate. Much less hang out with with some of my favorite people. But last night, we rallied and drove to the other end of town to see off a wonderful couple who have become good friends over the years. To illustrate how much we're going to miss them, when I told Scotty about those plans after he'd just worked a seven-day week, his immediate response was, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
Tonight, they're leaving town on a one-way ferry trip south to their new home in Wisconsin. Recently retired, they are ready for a change, new challenges, and to return to the area in which they grew up and have family. Scotty and I stopped by their house last night to say goodbye (or, to be more accurate, “see you later” since we are definitely going to visit them next time we are visiting my family in Minnesota). We sat around the dining room table, sipping wine as we chatted and shared recent happenings and impending plans, catching up as best we could in limited time since we’ve all been busy in recent months (they with visitors and packing up a house; us with working way too much).
With backgrounds in education, art, and music, their house is filled with interesting objects that could be the source of endless stories. Their interest in, and respect for, different cultures and the natural world is abundantly evidenced by the things they have collected over the years.
And so, as I surveyed their now much-emptier house, the selfish part of me couldn’t help but feel deeply sad that they were leaving. They are more than entitled to this next chapter; I just hope we get to be a part of it (and they of ours). S was the first person who really reached out to me to become a true friend, inviting me over repeatedly, suggesting I attend interesting community events, and gently and patiently (and perhaps unknowingly) helping me to knock down some of the protective walls I had built in my early twenties during what were rough(er) years for me. Her humorous, wry observations and gentle, intelligent conversation always brightened my day. And her husband is one of the most kind, caring, and fun people I've ever met. (And we need crew... don't forget....)
But what is most apparent about my friends is the obvious warmth and love they bring to the world. Over the past years, I’ve often felt so lucky that they invited me to be their friend, though I am one of many. And time and time again, the selfless examples they set in their actions have reminded me that there is should be no limit to caring about others. Love is not a finite thing; love cannot be measured or used up.
The day I learned that my brother had died, I had already planned to stop by their house. When I arrived and told them, they both embraced me, not at all afraid of, or uncomfortable with, my shocked state of grief. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d both sprouted wings right then and there.
A lot of people are going to miss these two around here. They’ve helped many people in this community, striving to improve the lives of others through their professional expertise and by caring about those who desperately needed someone to care.
People come and people go. I get that. And since I’ve done so much going myself, you’d think it would get easier for a person accustomed to saying goodbye. But I am no poster child when it comes to that. Goodbyes are the worst. If I could live my life in ten places, I would. It’s no wonder I spend something like half of my annual income on plane travel.
Before we said goodbye, they imparted on me a few treasures, to go along with all the intangible ones: a good stock of candles for those long dark Alaska winter nights; some delicious canned goods; a beautifully carved vintage wood shelf that now serves as my night table in our tiny cabin; and best of all, a wreath, handmade by my friend years earlier. Its willow boughs are braided together, a sprig of eucalyptus and dried flowers tucked in between, and a crimson ribbon tied in a triple bow. And as soon as I got home that night, I hung it above the front door- our only door- so that only good things and love can enter here.
I have no doubt that the same will follow those two wherever they go.
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