Our Story - Part Seven

When Cheryl told me she was moving to Florida to marry Sid, I thought my world was crashing around me all over again. I was happy for her. I was saddened by the loss it would be for me. We had always been together and now we were going to have to learn how to stand on our own two feet without the physical support of our friend.

Helping her pack for the move was killing me emotionally. I felt so alone. My children were all married and living their own lives. Robin and I were dating, and having him helped. But no one can be replaced in our hearts. Cheryl was my confidante, my lifeline, my assurance that I still had some sanity left in me.

While she was in another part of the house, I was packing dishes and glasses in the kitchen. And slipping notes into the boxes. I wanted her to know when she arrived in her new home and unpacked her belongings, that I missed having her so close by. Since so much of her household things weren't needed right away, Cheryl tells me she is still finding notes when she opens a new box.

I was at her home in De Soto the morning she and Sid left for Florida. When the remaining items were secured in the trailer behind the car, Cheryl turned to me with tears in her eyes. Two best friends, forever friends, best buddies, were about to say goodbye. We hugged for the longest time.

I got into my car and drove to the corner and waited. As they drove slowly past me, I could see that Cheryl was crying. She could see that I was crying, too. We have since turned that "corner" thing into a moment of extreme excitement. Now, when we take our annual trip, we wait until we get to the corner of my street before letting out a loud squeal, signifying the joy we feel for the week ahead.

Over a year after Cheryl left, Robin and I married in a chapel in Las Vegas. Cheryl arrived the week before and we did last minute shopping. She bought the beautiful and feminine pale pink gown I would take on my honeymoon. Watching her leave again was hard, but we knew it always would be.

Every morning for months, Cheryl and I would get up early and talk on the Yahoo Messenger. The messenger is still a valuable tool in our friendship. It keeps us connected on a daily basis. We have it on during the day at work and chat when the urge arises. We understand if a response isn't forthcoming, knowing the other is busy and will answer when she can. The conversations and laughter have been numerous! We have given special meaning to most of the emoticons and know exactly what the other is thinking when the icon appears on our screens. So often we are writing, "Thank God for this pager!" And to further prove that Cheryl and I are often on the same page, I can't count the amount of times that we have written the exact words on the pager, and hit the enter key before seeing what the other wrote. When it happens, Cheryl writes, "dododododododo", as if she's humming the theme from "The Twilight Zone".

Everyone uses their own form of shorthand when communicating over the internet. We are no exception. Daily, a message appears on my screen that says, "Hi BB". I know that Cheryl is calling me her best buddy. I might write, "Hi FF" and she knows she is my forever friend. We've also been known to write SF. I saw a commercial a few years back that reminded me so much of Cheryl that I had to call and tell her about it. It was one of those "priceless" ads. Sea Foam green nail polish is so many dollars, Sea Foam green bridesmaid's dress is so many dollars, sea foam green shoes is so many dollars, and finally, "Having a friend you'd wear sea foam for - priceless." Sea Foam or SF became another nickname.

Cheryl and Sid own a used car lot in Pensacola. She has stuck her head under the hoods of cars, crawled beneath them, and actually coated her hands with grease and grime. I gave her another nickname: Carlotta. She, in turn, calls me Bertha, a big, tough name for a woman who owns a sheet metal manufacturing business. "Cars and sheet metal," Cheryl has said often. "We're women. What's wrong with this picture?"

Cheryl surprised me with an airline ticket to Michigan and I was so excited to see where she grew up. I left Dallas, and she left Pensacola, and we met at the airport in Atlanta. From there, we flew to Michigan together. Her mother gave us the room with twin beds and Cheryl and I talked and giggled most of the night. We spent so much time, too, playing table games with her mother, who could stay up as late as we did. Cheryl took me to her brother's house and I got to meet him, his wife, and their children. She also took me to the cemetery where Tony and her father are buried. After learning so much about this man who had made Cheryl so happy, I now felt that I knew him even more after seeing his name on a marker. I wanted to be there for Cheryl, just as she had knelt over Chezzy's grave with me. And, she had listened many times when I called her from the cemetery, crying, as I sat in my car with Chezzy's grave in sight.

Our lives might have changed, but our friendship didn't. If it did, it only grew stronger. We still depend on the other's support and advice. If there's a dark cloud hanging over us, we know who will listen. There's never been a doubt about that. As this friendship grew, we began adding the annual "Forever Friends Getaway", a week we spend in a condo playing games, eating junk, laughing, napping, talking, and, well - just being silly teenagers again.

Each trip begins with an excited squeal at the corner of my street.