New Friends

There's yarn between us. We talk patterns and yarn. She is far more accomplished than me, but I'm open to marvel and learn.  Kids buzz around us looking and asking.  We tell little stories, exchange observations, talk parenting.  We've shared a few cups of coffee over the past few months.  Mary Claire plays well with her girls.  My older girls babysit.  I see the books on her shelf, we're drawn to common things.  She's years younger.  I'm closer in age to her mother than her, I'm sure.  But I have many friends years older who've added so much richness to my life, it can't be a bad thing.  Friendship blooms regardless of age, culture, education ....hair color!  And I love meeting new people and making new friends, especially when you meet someone you just click with. It's fun getting to know someone, sharing glimpses here and there of who you are, what you're all about.  And its even more fun to unlock the treasure chest of this new friend, learn more, see more, hear more.  I like that!  We get to know each other through our children, witness the little exchanges that outline who we are, what we're all about.  Those things happen naturally and often.
But how do I tell someone that to really know me, you have to know Phoebe. ...and how do I tell someone that my precious Phoebe, my oldest daughter,  is dead? 
Like lots of my friendships our shared time involves our children.  With long time friends, we sneak in cryptic sentences here and there tipping each other off to our particular challenges of the day, week ...always.  We're good at eye movements, facial expression, hidden gestures that communicate far more than our environment allows in words.  But when its a new friend, we don't share those things ...that secret language comes in time.
I'm challenged by that now because truly, this new friend's passion  and interests about so many things, remind me of Phoebe, and I know Phoebe would like her. She's got nothing to prove, she's not calculating who has what, when, where, how like so many in our culture do today.    And she is funny and bright and down to earth ....real. Her kids are cute and fun and funny!  I enjoy my time, our time together.  But she has to know about Phoebe ...because she is as much a part of me as my own hands.
 But how do I say to her ..."hey, I have another daughter you haven't met ...because she died."  And how do I tell her my heart limps along in this life, soaring with great joy for my precious six living, but drags and heaves with an unbearable sorrow  and longing for my feisty girl.  Lots of times the exposure of Phoebe just happens.  Sometimes though, those natural moments don't come, and its a challenge ...because for me to be truly authentic ... you have to know my Phoebe.
Sometimes Phoebe is just too present, like the elephant in the living room, it's so apparent to me she is there, and yet unknown or unrecognized.  And that's what happened to me today.  It's almost like she's saying "so, would you introduce me already, you're being kind of rude Mom.  How'd you like it if I did that to you?"  But how do you share that when there is no natural way to bring it up? 
Anyone who's lost a child knows this struggle, this particular challenge most people don't consider, because they don't have to.  How do you reveal your lost child?  Not to just anyone.  Now its kept and considered only for people you care about and trust.  Who cares about the rest.  Phoebe's gone over three years now, so I don't blurt it out like I did the first year or two.  Sometimes people already know and they keep it to themselves, gingerly walking around the topic because who could possibly know how to ask someone "hey, so I heard you have a daughter who died by suicide ...that must be a real drag."  Or sometimes people will speak in hushed tones, touching my arm like I might break, or start sobbing uncontrollably ...and really, who wants to get that going.  Even though that's so unlikely to happen.
I guess I could just say ... Hey,  I really enjoy your company and I hope our friendship grows ...because your fun and interesting ...and you're interested in this middle aged, chubby momma with bad hair ...but can I tell you something that is very, very dear to me ...do you have a moment to listen?
Can I tell you about Phoebe? 
She died October 9th, 2010 on a beautiful fall day while I was at a soccer game.  She had gone to take the SAT at a school where she'd been bullied relentlessly the first two months of high school, and the school could not have cared less. She spent the rest of her high school years at a different school. She forgot her ID, called home, couldn't take the test without it, had to walk home. When she came home she saw that her dad and I had found pot in her backpack while we searched for her ID.  We were really mad, and she knew it!  The next day just the three of us were heading to Maine to visit a college that seemed a great match for her.  But we never got to go with her.  She just gave up on life, on herself and on us in that brief moment. She brought her own end while no one was home.  And all of us died that day too. It's taken a long time to find moments of normalcy.  It feels like it happened this morning ...probably always will. Feels like she might sidle on up next to me when we're chatting and add her two cents ... or more.
I miss her more than I could ever put in words, and I wish instead of getting mad about finding pot, I'd smoked a joint with her instead ...if it meant she'd stay.  I wish instead of being annoyed she'd forgotten her ID, I'd said 'who cares, come along to the games with me.'
Our life shattered, my heart shredded into a million pieces and we've spent the last years building a new life without her.  I know without a doubt you'd love her.  She was bright and fun, adventurous beyond words.  She'd show you places in World's End you'd never find on your own, and she'd marvel at the uniqueness of your own kids ...especially the fiesty.  She loved the mountains, the great expanse from high up.  She'd go barefoot all year round, swim in the ocean in March everyday if she could.  She was a blast of a person ...  She gave me a run for my money ...and she made me run further than I ever thought I could.  She was only seventeen, and she must have felt unbearably alone that morning.
I wish I had stayed with her ...but how could I know?
And so we live this life, here in this place, trying to stay engaged for our kids  They lost a sister that noticed the stars and the moon, paid attention to the tide, listened for the wind, thought deeply about truthfulness and being genuine. She turned a phrase faster than most.  She took the fall for her friends, blaming herself for the typical teenage stuff, while her friends sat by and let her!  She could read people quickly ...and oh, how I wish I'd paid closer attention!  She bossed us all around and we listened.  She had big, blue, beautiful eyes and a pile of hair atop her head that wiggled and jiggled.  She read many of the books on your shelf and would have discussed each and every one's merits and weakness , and asked you what you thought. 
You'll get to know her more and more over time.  I've made other new friends since she died and lots of them feel like they really know her ...and I hope one day you do too!  Because truly, knowing her will only make your life richer ...she is an extraordinary girl, forever seventeen ...forever mine.
So now that maybe you don't know what to say or how to be around me, let me tell you.  Just be.  Just be you.  I won't break, I won't bite.  Sometimes I might cry ...but who wouldn't!  And don't be afraid you'll say or do the wrong thing.  The people who do, don't stay.  The people who are genuine about life and being who they are ...stay.  I look for joy each day, and if I can't find it one day, I usually can the next.  She still makes me laugh ...and I'm pretty sure she's still bossing me around ...which I love
So how's that for a segue when it doesn't happen on its own?! 
Us parents who've lost a child have lots and lots of interesting challenges other parents don't.  And we have to find some unusual ways to navigate through life.  We can be a tough crowd, but well worth getting to know!
So I found Phoebe on this ordinary day, in the living room of a new friend.  She stood across from me waving her arms, demanding to be introduced ...so here it is.  You happy Phoebe?
Woven in an out of our day are the moments when God allows the veil to pull back for just a bit ...and I am most grateful!