This isn’t a happy blog so move along if you need to, no hard feelings, but I need to write this one for a friend.
I lost another classmate today and I’m struggling with it. Robin (my classmate) was a beautiful soul inside and out. You would have to search for an eternity before you found someone that could say a cross or negative word about her. Today, she lost a yearlong battle with cancer.
Robin was a wife, mother, daughter and friend and she will be missed by all that filled those roles in her life and missed by those like me, that hadn’t seen her but once in the last 40 years.
You see, I recently got to see her at a church service that was the cap to a celebration weekend of our 40th year high school reunion, none of which I attended except the church service, and I am grateful now that I at least attended the church service. The service was wonderful! The pastor of the church was a classmate and his message was magnificent. I was so proud of him and the way he stood in front of his classmates and preached the gospel. Keep in mind, I don’t go to church that much but I’m not an uncomfortable heathen in one either.
At that service, I was blessed that I got to see Robin, shake her hand and tell her it was nice to see her again and I meant it. She looked as beautiful as she ever did in high school and she still sported a million-dollar smile that endeared her to everyone.
She didn’t recognize me, but I recognized her long before we shook hands after the service. She still carried that unmistakable million-dollar smile that kinda made me feel like I wasn’t a “happy enough” person to be around her. I could go on here about how crushed I was that she didn’t recognize me, but I wasn’t, well maybe a little, but my excitement to see her and so many of my classmates that I hadn’t seen in many years overshadowed my personal ego.
Cancer is such an evil beast, like so many others, I have had a run in with it myself and when you hear those words, “you have cancer”, everything stops, or at least everything slows down to a crawl. You can barely hear what the doctor is telling you because your mind just goes into this slow, foggy place that is difficult to comprehend at the time, but I understand it better now.
I remember leaving the doctors office and seeing everything on the drive home, and I mean SEEING every tree, every color, every car, every person and every sight. I soaked it all in. As I was driving I saw this beautiful Maple tree that had changed its colors for the fall to a vivid Orange/Red. I was so confident that I had never seen such a beautiful tree and I began the bargaining process. I vowed that if God would just let me beat this thing, I would plant one those amazingly beautiful trees. I am not sure what stage of grief that is, but when I pulled into my driveway at home, I was embarrassed to see that I HAD one of those very same maple trees in full Orange/Red bloom in my front yard.
For the first time in my life, I fully understood the “stop and smell roses” mantra. For the first time in my life I was embarrassed by my lack of appreciation for the visual and emotional gifts that we are given each day.
Robin lost her battle with the beast today but from what I understand she faced the beast in death with the same strength and gusto that she faced life. Her smile only fading as the almighty decided it was time for her to come home. I know she is an angel in Heaven now, she has to be, she was certainly an angel on earth. RIP Robin.