I met an old friend today. Our lives overlapped before Phoebe died, so she knew the stories of my girl. We hustled our way through nursing school; she was much younger, but something gelled and we became fast friends, championing each other through clinicals and exams. Life carried us forward, and we mostly lost touch after Phoebe died and her life carried her on a journey she hadn't planned.
Professional overlap let me keep tabs on her and we would send cryptic messages back and forth. But today we met, sighed, caught up. Well into sharing and updating she paused, and asked me if I'd heard about one of our classmates. I hadn't.
Bright and beautiful, fun and witty, she sat next to us during class and a few times the three of us were in the same clinical rotations. She was hardworking, capable and resourceful. I learned a lot from her. I liked her company. She ate a lot of peanut butter and banana sandwiches, pulling them out during a lecture. Her life was full of drama and disappointment, yet her compassion and kindness to those she cared for led many of us to offer better care ...a bigger piece of our heart. Jocelyn was the first to care for the seemingly unlovable, the hardest to love.
She died. And I hadn't known until today. And it has weighted my day. It's made me stand still today.
I remember her coming to Phoebe's wake, and the gift my two friends brought to me. That gift still sits on a small shelf in my kitchen, reminding me of how they'd reached out.
I think of her, and I think of her parents.
Her life was a hard one, and her successes were very hard fought. Some obstacles she faced were her own, but most weren't.
She's a person whose life many would not be surprised ended early. And likely, many will forget her and move on, remembering only her mistakes. I never saw the underbelly of her life. In the brief time we knew each other, she kept that from me, and offered her best self ...which was brilliant.
I think about her parents, the emptiness that permeates, the abyss of sorrow. Learning to carry that takes time ...lots and lots of time.
As I drive away from my visit, my questions start. Why God, do some people struggle so much more than others in life? Some people's personal struggles are so public and exposed, casting a shadow over the gem-like qualities most don't possess. Those questions can never be answered, in this lifetime anyway.
Too often, people are remembered for the mistakes they've made, or the battles they've lost, temptations they couldn't fight. Many are remembered for how they die.
I hope people remember Phoebe for who she was, not for how she died.
And I want to remember Jocelyn, my friend for a short time, for her radiance and compassion she brought to the world.
Please pray for her, and for her family.
