Because The Lord Needs Company

My Mom is a bloodhound when it comes to judging a person's character. She can tell humble from cheater, selfless from self-absorbed, energetic from histrionic, reliable from flighty, fun from irresponsible, trustworthy from gossip-monger, elegant from haughty...all within a first impression.



A few years after moving to California, my parents befriended a spirited couple who represented the grand sum total of everything they search high and low for in their friends. In the blink of an eye, my Mom had met her bosom buddy whose very soul was knit from an unparalleled, vibrant authenticity. The bond my Mom grew to form so quickly with the petite and buxom woman who shared the same first name was as kindred as a relationship can be. They danced, they laughed, they golfed, they cried, they dyed their hair platinum blonde, they filled their Christmas houses to the brim with decorations and people, and on the few days a week that they weren't together they were most certainly corresponding by phone. They brought out the absolute best in each other (and each other's husbands), because that's what best friends do.







So you have to wonder how it is that this woman whose smile sparkled as brightly as a diamond, whose hugs were filled with more vigour than a nutcracker, whose mousy, high-pitched giggle could drown out a live rock band and whose laughter was as necessary and warm as the sun in July, could have been taken from us with such unfairly limited notice. Last night, my Mom's little soul mate lost her very short, but hard fought, battle with liver disease.

Three weeks ago they were planning next year's dual-family trip to Hawaii; today they're planning the 'celebration of life' service (trust me when I say, that's what she'd want it to be called). Three weeks ago the two couples were giggling over a bottle of Cakebread Chardonnay; today the world is silently grieving.

The stars are exceptionally radiant tonight, even through the clouds, because the heavens just inherited one of the good ones. If I know my Mom's friend, she has already convinced the angels that they need to be dancing with her.



Here's to the [very well-lived] life of an extraordinary woman. Her thumbprints will remain impressed on the hearts of the thousands of people who have been blessed to know her. I hope the Big Guy upstairs knows just how lucky he is to share in her company...