Sophie's Choice . . .

. . . was to stay with Memaw tonight while her Mommy went to her Kindred Voices practice. We pulled out the toys and had lots of fun. I fed her the sweet potatoes and lentils that her Mother brought while I ate my spaghetti. She never made a whimper. She's such a good baby.

Sophia looked especially sweet in her hair bow and her hand-me-down threads from cousin Juliet. And she'd get excited when Papa came in the room and spoke to her. I think all kids sense the kid presence in Robin.

Thank you, Sophia, for a wonderful evening and letting me munch on those sweet thighs and cheeks. I love you so much!

Family Reunion

Hot Springs was the perfect setting for the family reunion. We stayed at the Velda Rose hotel and used one of the meeting rooms for our Saturday night gathering. When Robin and I arrived on Friday afternoon, my cousin Lou was waiting outside with her grandson. I jumped from the car and embraced them both.

Lou is my Dad's cousin, but she is only three months older than me. When I spent time in Bonnerdale with my grandparents, Lou and I would play for hours. We lost contact somewhere along the way and I learned she had always worried about me since she knew my grandmother had instructed my grandfather to put me in the cellar for crying. "I cried many times over that, just knowing you were in that dark place with spiders," she told me. "No," I assured her, "I quit crying when he got close to that scary cellar, but was dumb enough to start crying again after we returned to the house." That's when my grandmother would insist that I go into the cellar again, and my crying would stop.

I stayed in her hotel room until well past midnight that first night as we shared with other cousins I'd never met, some of our childhood antics. There was the time we spent the night with Aunt Cle. The back bedroom was scary to both of us, but I was especially afraid of the deer rug on the floor. After all, I was the city girl. Aunt Cle came in the room, jumped up and down on the rug to prove it wasn't alive and wouldn't devour me. Still, I cowered in fear. Her husband finally had to drive me back to my grandparents' home. This story produced much laughter from us that night. Lou was doubled over in laughter at remembering Aunt Cle jumping all over that rug.

Lou and I ate all our meals together and spent every moment with each other except for when Robin and I went to the National Park. She has this marvelous sense of humor and I admire her greatly. She was born with Charcoal Marie Tooth, a crippling malady that has confined her to a wheelchair. But Lou and her chair refuse to be confined. She uses that electric wheelchair much as we do a car to get wherever she wants to go. She planned the reunion, rolling along those almost two miles to downtown Hot Springs, to scout out hotels. On our walk through the town, I was surprised how many people along the way would stop to say hello to her. She knows so many people and is so active. She was presented an engraved clock at the reunion for all her diligent work.

Saturday night festivities were so much fun. We visited with many cousins, mostly distant, and learned much of the history of the Lambert and Ewing families. We had a catered buffet of a variety of sandwiches, dips and chips, and chicken strips. My sister, Donna, baked a cake and I made two kinds of cookies.

Fortunately, over half of my cookies were eaten because when I awoke on Sunday morning, I found the cookies totally infested with ants. And we were on the 7th floor! We had to throw out all the cookies. What a waste of time, energy and ingredients! Especially those expensive pecans. Donna's delicious cake escaped the invasion.

I will end this reunion tale with a funny story about my Dad. He had showered and then let my Mother use the bathroom to get ready. He was still hot from the shower so he stretched out on the bed in the nude to cool off. Suddenly, there was a knock just as the door to his hotel room opened, and there stood the maid. She hadn't given him any response time since she knocked and opened the door at the same time. I told him she will remember seeing him next time, he said "but not my face". I hope he's learned to engage the chain lock from now on.

Hot Springs National Park

These are some of the pictures we took while driving the lovely mountain roads.

Memory Lane

I'll fill you in on the Lambert Family Reunion, but first I want to take a stroll down memory lane. My family visited Arkansas many times during my childhood since my Dad's parents lived there. They owned and operated a gas station and grocery store. The old store is now a flea market, closed both times we stopped by. I've included pictures of the old place where I used to spend summers with my grandparents.

Another site that was thrilling for us kids was the Mazarn Creek. It was the community "swimming pool". The water has since been channeled to other areas so the water is quite shallow where we used to swim. There was a tree that leaned over the creek with wood steps nailed to it for climbing. Once we climbed the tree, there was a long rope just waiting for us to grab and swing out over the water, then dropping into the cool, clear creek. When a lot of us were there for the weekend, we usually had our baths at the creek in preparation for church the next morning. We'd see fish and snakes and old logs near the water's edge and none of it scared us as kids. I didn't even dip my toe in the water on this trip. But there was a mother swimming there with her two young daughters.

Another picture is of me standing in front of the Levi Hospital in Hot Springs where I was born. The name of the hospital was a real eye-opener this trip. St. Joseph's was about a block away from our hotel, now abandoned and waiting to be turned into a retirement home. For some reason, I always thought I was born there. Not that I remember, mind you, but the name stuck in my mind. Maybe it was because my aunt used to work there, but I swore I was born at St. Joseph's. I told my Dad I wanted to walk there and get a picture. That's when the lie I've lived for all these years was exposed. I was actually born at Levi Hospital. I hope I'm not scarred for the remainder of my life!

Dad told me that not only was I born at Levi, but the doctor was Dr. Clue. I'm glad it wasn't Dr. Clueless. At any rate, I found Levi Hospital, stood by the sign, and Robin snapped the picture. It was strange to think that the last time I was there was as a tiny newborn baby girl. I must be getting old for this bit of nostalgia was present.

Robin and I "snuck" away from the cousins for awhile and drove through Hot Springs National Park. It was a beautiful, scenic drive. The pictures with mountains in the background were taken there.

Tomorrow I will add reunion pictures and tell a little something about the event. I won't bore you with news about people you don't know. What a lovely trip and getting home is nice too. Glad I was missed!

Blog Break

I'll be visiting with many cousins this weekend and will not have time to blog. I know it's heartbreaking, but rest assured I will return to this site with many pictures. You won't know any of them and will probably be bored, but it will give me something to do besides get into trouble.

If I see I have a spare moment, I will blog. Otherwise, I will visit with long-lost cousins and lovingly gaze at my laptop.

Have a glorious weekend everyone.

Book #3 In Progress

Sorry, no picture of me sitting at my laptop creating a best seller. Ha! But I am working on chapter 14 of Sacrifice. It's been a slow process. I'm preoccupied with work issues and writing has been a struggle. I see some major editing in the near future.

Sacrifice is the story of Ava Hennessy, a young widow, who marries an older man in order to keep her father out of prison. She believes her father is innocent, but can't prove it. Benjamin Brodie, her boss and the President of Brodie Express, has promised to drop all charges of embezzling if only Ava will marry him and take his lonliness away. She enters into a business-type contract with Benjamin, with the stipulation that she can leave once the debt is paid in full. Benjamin, however, is convinced she will fall in love with him and begin viewing their relationship as a marriage instead of a business arrangement.

Benjamin has three grown children. Clark, the oldest, is bitter and moody. Nathan is happily married and constantly dealing with the restraints of asthma. Felicia is a spoiled Daddy's Girl who is used to getting her own way. Greta, the housekeeper, is a fiesty German lady who has kept the Brodie home together.

Max Raney is Ava's father. He's keeping his administrative leave a secret from his daughter, claiming it's time to retire. Chloe St. James, Ava's best friend and confidante, is the only one who knows the real reason why Ava consented to marry Benjamin. And she's vowed to keep her mouth shut.

Madeliene Raney and Celeste Brodie are deceased, but still making an impact on their families. Officer Luke Hennessy, Ava's beloved husband, was killed by a drunk driver.

Angela will again make the cover for this 3rd book. I've sent her what I have so far so she can get a feel for the story. I don't expect a finished cover any time soon with her move and a new baby scheduled to arrive in a few weeks. But it wouldn't surprise me if the cover is done before the book is!

I spend too much time playing computer games when I should be writing. But times do come around when I feel myself thinking more and more about the book and anxious to write. I just wish those times would come more often. If I don't feel "inspired" to write, nothing good comes from it.

I'm hoping this progress report will find me itching to get back to the laptop and pull up Microsoft Word instead of searching for hidden objects or popping balloons. This may not be an exciting post, but it beats the snake pictures.

Rated R

I made the comment to Cristal that I was out of blog material unless someone came up with another snake story. Be careful what you wish for.

My sister, Donna, was sent this picture of rattlesnakes in the throes of lovemaking. The man who photograghed this illicit act (do rattlesnakes marry?) found the pair of lovers on his property in Wilson, Oklahoma. Apparently he knows a little something about rattlesnakes because he said they are mating.

Of course, snakes have to mate to procreate, but I have a hard time imagining a tender moment with another snake. The picture suggests an almost swan-like union. Really sweet, huh? Prior to mating, I wonder if they bat their beady eyes at each other and enjoy a little forked-tongue action? Maybe they make those cute rattling noises to attract their partner. And no moisturizer for these guys, got to have that scaly look to get those pheromones flowing.

Forgive me for the porn, but I hope it is as good for you as it was for me.

Sneaky Snake

This wretched creature was discovered on my sister's front porch. Fortunately, it was her husband, James, who happened upon it and not Donna. Not that I wish any ill will to James, but perhaps men handle snake discoveries better than women do.

Donna had heard a few taps at the front door, but dismissed it as being one of their pets. Shortly after, she heard James yell and run in a side door. He told Donna there was a large rattlesnake on their porch and needed her help in keeping an eye on it while he got something to kill it with. Ron, a friend of theirs, was working on their property that day, which was a blessing. He managed to get the snake off the porch so James could shoot it.

The rattlesnake measured at 52 inches and had ten buttons on its tail. We believe it was the buttons tapping against the front door that Donna had heard a few minutes earlier.

This is not their first encounter with rattlesnakes. One killed their beloved dog a few years back. They have also seen them in the garage and other areas around the house. They own many acres in Madill, Oklahoma, where their home is located. Rattlesnakes have always been a problem, and one that concerns me every summer, knowing my Sissy is so close to them.

This latest visitor convinced them to put a for sale sign in their front yard. My advice to them is to keep quiet about the snake infestation, unless some weirdo comes along who enjoys rattlesnake hunting. In that case, they have the perfect selling feature.

I'm so thankful James and Donna were protected from this horrible menace. Those things are nasty! And not just nasty, but extremely deadly. Keep your eyes on the ground, you two!

Tony and Chezzy

Our Story - Part Ten

A special time for Cheryl and me was seeing parts of "our story" in print about thirteen years ago. A Dallas newspaper was soliciting friendship stories for a special upcoming article. I immediately wrote about our friendship. When the article arrived, Cheryl saw it first. "They printed our story!" she exclaimed over the phone. "Our friendship is in the paper!" I grabbed my newspaper and turned to the Living section. We weren't the featured friends, but they had printed several paragraphs about us from my submission. Cheryl kept a clipping of it in her wallet for many years. It may still be there.

When Cheryl married Sid, she became the mother of his two small boys. Those boys are now teenagers. Through the years she has helped with homework, attended school programs, gave them a place to call home, and most of all, she loved them. I've never seen a "step-mom" so involved and I admire her for it. Her sons have a special place in their hearts for her, too.

One of the greatest things Cheryl has done for me is making a lifelong dream come true. I've always enjoyed writing and finally decided to write a novel. Cheryl's mother, Evelyn Wilson, wanted to read it as I wrote. As I finished a binder - 8 of them in all - I'd pack it up and send it to Michigan. Mom Wilson and her comments filled me with confidence. She began seeking ways to have the book published. She made some inquiries with a friend who had some publishing experience. We never took it any further, mainly because the amount of editing that would have to be done overwhelmed me. Mom Wilson died in 2004, and I have kept all the sweet notes she enclosed with my binders when she returned them.

In 2006, I realized I had the incentive to edit and a burning desire to have my book published. What I didn't have were resources. It was going to take years for my company to recover from a bad time in the economy, and I had to really watch the money. Cheryl insisted that I follow through on the editing and she would take care of the rest. My evenings were spent reading the almost 1400-page manuscript, and making the needed changes. Angela, the family artist, agreed to do my book cover. As it turned out, my novel was too long for one book and it ended up in two. This was another expense for Cheryl, but she wanted to see my dream come true. Simon Says, Books One and Two, went to print. I received my first copy in August. I can't describe the joy of holding my own book! Book two arrived the next month in September, just two days before I ended up in the hospital with surgery.

Cheryl was so instrumental in the publication of my books, and her excitement matched my own. Not only did she want to do this for her friend, but we both felt such a strong satisfaction that we had completed something Mom Wilson had wanted done. How thrilled she would be to hold these printed copies in her hands! And, the thrill for me continues. I'm still in awe of the two books and I think of Cheryl and Angela every time I see them. Other than the three magnificent children I bore, this novel is one of the most rewarding accomplishments of my life.

As "Our Story" comes to an end on my blog, I am blessed that it continues in our lives. There will be new experiences, new stories, new discoveries as the friendship continues. Cheryl and I have wondered what it would have been like had we met years earlier, when our husbands were alive. Would our two Polish men enjoy the same kind of friendship we have? Would our own friendship be as strong without the losses that pulled us together?

I believe it would have been. God used our grief to introduce friends for life. Had it been a shallow relationship, it would have ended once healing was accomplished and our need for each other was over. It takes more than a shared loss to keep a friendship alive and growing. It involves the elements of mutual interests, trust, a certain kind of chemistry, and characters in unison. I don't know what all is involved to make a friendship work as well as this one does. Maybe something just clicks.

I've heard it said that all of us have a twin somewhere in the world. Maybe Cheryl and I don't look like identical twins, but we're certainly on the same wave length. She grew up in Michigan, I grew up in Texas, and yet so much of our lives are identical. There's only one way for two people who have so much in common, to meet and feel the immediate bonds of friendship. It was heaven sent.

I love you, BB. Thank you for your big part in this incredible friendship.

A final poem in loving memory of Chezzy and Tony:

What I'd Give

What I'd give to see your face,

To know again your sweet embrace.

And savor the thrill of your gentle touch,

To have the one I miss so much.

What I'd give to hear your voice,

If only I could make that choice.

If you simply spoke one little word

It'd be the sweetest I ever heard.

What I'd give to see your smile,

The last one's been the longest while.

So many of them were just for me,

Oh, how happy we used to be!

What I'd give to feel your hug,

Your arms around me warm and snug.

And taste the sweetness of your kiss,

These things I know I'll always miss.

What I'd give to see your eyes

Sparkling like the starry skies.

To have you once again to care,

Our love forever we would share.

What I'd give to change the past

And let our time together last.

To have you back with me to live,

My Darling, my all, is what I'd give.

Rest in peace, our Polish Princes, until we meet again.

Our Story - Part Nine

Besides the minor accident I had on icy roads, there have been other moments that threatened our friendship. No one wants their lifeline severed, and Cheryl and I count it a blessing each day to see that ours is still intact.

Shortly after we became friends, Cheryl was diagnosed with a rare form of glaucoma. Especially rare, was the fact that she was in her mid-forties and had it. Her life has become a series of surgeries and daily eye drops. The possibility of total vision loss in the future is always in the back of our minds. Like everything else in her life, Cheryl has faced it with bravado and complete faith in God.

Cheryl became very ill during one of our Bandera trips. Her repeated gasps for breath scared me. Surely, God would protect my friend, I thought, since He brought her into my life in the first place. It was quickly decided that Cheryl needed medical help. I drove her into Bandera to a clinic where tests were run. It was discovered that Cheryl has asthma. She was given prescriptions to keep it under control and soon her breathing was back to normal. I'm convinced she was feeling better before I was. The whole incident was horrifying for me.

Since then, Sid has had to rush her to the emergency room as Cheryl has tried to catch her breath. These episodes, as anyone can imagine, are a time of panic for her. Having to gasp for air feels as if death is closing in. I'm glad I learned of these awful times after the fact. I would have been pacing the floor like a zombie.

Two years ago as we were driving home from Bandera, Cheryl said she didn't feel well. I had to stop on the side of the road where Cheryl proceeded to get sick. It kept getting worse, so I took her to a clinic when we arrived home. She was given medications to stop the vomiting and diarrhea, and was able to fly home the next day, feeling better but drained. We think she had a touch of food poisoning. We'd had breakfast at our favorite restaurant in Bandera the morning we left. Since it was a lovely day, we sat on the patio overlooking a river. I commented on how good the coffee was and Cheryl didn't agree with me. Hers tasted bad. She uses cream in her coffee and I don't. The creamer, left outside in the sun, could have been the culprit.

Forgive me, Cheryl, but I'm going to embarrass us both. Perhaps you more than me. Before I took Cheryl to the clinic for the suspected food poisoning, I stopped by a drug store to purchase adult diapers. Cheryl was so ill that she had no control over her bodily functions. The only reason I am mentioning this is because I had surgery in the same year and Robin and I had to drive from the Houston area back home and feared that I would have an accident. Not an auto accident, but the kind of accident that adult diapers are good for. I, too, had little control over my body after being heavily sedated. My internal organs were't fully awake. Again, Cheryl commented about how we both had that same experience only months apart. We'll probably go into dentures at the same time. But I'll receive my Social Security check a full 13 months before she does since I'm the older of the two.

Since Cheryl is already embarrassed, I will add another little story. When she was living here, she showed me a sore place on one of her toes. I told her it was a corn and suggested ways to treat it. I'm an old pro at corns. I had them for years until I started taking Grape Seed Extract. Cheryl was horrified to learn that she would have to walk into a drug store, without a disguise, and buy corn pads. "Cheryl, they are corn pads, not feminine pads," I told her. Still, she couldn't bring herself to face the humiliation of laying a package of corn pads on the counter. Being the friend that I am, I picked up those horribly embarrassing items, marched to the counter, and paid for them, while Cheryl stood back and acted like she's never seen me before in her life.

Cheryl had her own scare about me a few months ago. Robin and I had just arrived at our condo on the beach the day before when I awoke with a distended stomach and some slight pain. Before long, the pain increased and I started vomiting and getting terrible tremors. We headed for the emergency room where I was taken to emergency surgery to remove a blockage from my small intestines. I was in ICU for three days with a tube down my throat and unable to speak clearly. When I was finally moved to my own room and the tube removed, I was able to call Cheryl. The relief in her voice was apparent. "I have just sat on the edge of my bed and cried," she told me. "Poor Sid. He didn't know what to do with me."

Close calls are devastating under any circumstances. For Cheryl and me, we have seen and felt the loss of someone we loved, and the thought of our lifeline breaking, too, is unbearable. God knew we needed each other and brought us together at the grief seminar. He knows the need is still there, and we praise Him for taking care of this friendship from heaven.

Tomorrow, Part Ten, the final post for now, will appear.

Our Story - Part Eight

The annual trips began in January, 2000, although at the time we did not know it would become an annual event. My daughters wanted to plan something special for my big five-o birthday and they included Cheryl. The three of them decided to take me to Hot Springs, Arkansas, the place of my birth, and indulge in the hot springs and spa. An ice storm arrived before we left and roads in that direction were impassable. Plan B was to head South and we chose Fredericksburg, Texas.

Robin let us use his Jeep so there would be plenty of room for four women and their luggage. With all the conversation and laughter, the trip there and back was as much fun as actually being there. The weather was bitterly cold and we finally gave in and went to Wal-Mart for long underwear to wear under our jeans. We browsed the many shops, enjoyed massages, tried the wonderful German foods and pastries, and played "Phase 10" each night in one of the hotel rooms. Cheryl and I slipped into bathing suits and knee socks and braved the cold long enough to run to Allison and Angela's room to knock on their door. I'm surprised they didn't send for the White Coats. Alarm was in their faces and they shook their heads. They do this often with us.

A picture was taken on that trip that always held special meaning for Cheryl and me. It showed only our backs, walking down the sidewalk, bundled in our winter attire. Years later, I put that picture on the back page of a scrapbook I'd made for Cheryl with the words: "Wherever the roads leads, we will travel it together". With the miles between us that might not be physically possible, but it's definitely emotionally possible and happens every day.

The next year, I traveled to Pensacola for Cheryl's big birthday. The day after I arrived we left for Biloxi, Mississippi, and spent several days in the Beau Rivage. We even managed some Yahtzee on the tiny table in the hotel room. I treated her to "River Dance", which was performing that week at our hotel. We tried our luck on the slot machines and had a ball. We found one called Pinball and we sat side by side and played and squealed each time one of us hit a pinball symbol. We didn't get rich, we didn't go for broke, either, we just had fun together. I spent the last night of that trip in Cheryl's home again, then another painful goodbye.

In 2002, we used my vacation plan to go to the Texas Hill Country and stay at a condo in Bandera. The last two trips to celebrate our turning fifty convinced us that it should become an annual event. Bandera, by far, is our favorite place to be and we have returned there often. The condo itself is spacious and beautiful with a big open loft with a sitting area and bedroom. Since we go in the winter close to our birthdays, we pretty much have the place to ourselves since it is off season. For naps, we snuggle under heavy blankets with the balcony door open so we can hear the rushing creek. And we act like two naïve city girls around all that wildlife. Each day we would escape the condo in our pajamas and watch the deer grazing on the lawns. One night my headlights caught the brief glimpse of a jackrabbit. The area is so serene perched on a hill and the perfect location for pajama days.

Since this one time a year is usually the only time we see each other, Cheryl and I love pajama days. We buy groceries shortly after we arrive, then there's no need to leave the condo for days. Or get dressed and do hair and makeup. We talk endlessly, play Yahtzee haphazardly - talking or laughing so hard that we forgot whose turn it was - and literally putting all diets on hold for a solid week. It's a glorious time of total relaxation.

This first trip to Bandera found us in the condo complex all by ourselves. We were up late playing games when we heard a door open in the lobby below. Since it was long past check-in time, we were concerned. Cheryl decided to investigate. There was a large gap under our door and Cheryl knelt there and peered under it. We hear, "hello, there". Cheryl jumped up in shock and I immediately crossed my legs because I was laughing so hard. A couple who had made arrangements with the front desk to check in late, had seen Cheryl's eyeball staring at them from under the door. The next day we both peered under the door while the other stood in the lobby to see how it looked. It produced wails of laughter and damp underwear. We still burst into gales of laughter when we remember that incident and how it looked.

In 2003, we used my vacation plan again and stayed in a condo in Galveston. Again, it was off season, but noise was a factor since we stayed on Seawall Boulevard. Traffic could be heard at all hours of the day and night from our two bedrooms upstairs. Definitely not the peace and solitude we had enjoyed in Bandera, but we had our week together and weren't about to let anything interfere. We went from watching deer, to watching police close down sections of Seawall to investigate an SUV. Cheryl and I stood on our darkened balcony and watched as police drew their guns as they approached the back of the SUV and opened it. We never learned what was going on, and sometime later the street was open and the traffic continued.

Our trip in 2004 was spent in a log cabin on Lake Palestine. We used the bedroom downstairs with its adjoining bath as a dressing room and storage area for our clothes and luggage. The loft upstairs had two full beds with a small window and lamb between the beds. From the window, all that could be seen were pine trees and more cabins. It was a beautiful area, even if the kitchen and living room were a bit cramped. Our favorite memory of the cabin is the delicious naps we'd take with the rain pounding the tin roof. Our worst memory, but one we still laugh over, was the snoring we heard in the adjoining cabin. We'd try to sleep, then burst into laughter. Fortunately, those guests were only there for the weekend.

The past three years we have returned to Bandera for the beauty and peacefulness it provides. On one such trip, my battery died while in town having dinner late one night. I asked a gas station attendant if there was a mechanic on duty. He stared at me. I then asked if there was a taxi service in Bandera. He stared at me again. I knew why after seeing the population sign: 99. Fortunately, a biker came along, jumped my battery, and we were able to drive back to the condo. The next day, I wanted to keep the car running awhile to recharge so I could get into town and buy a battery. Cheryl and I threw our ponchos over our pajamas and walked to the parking lot. We sat in my car, laughing over how we looked, and gave the battery a chance to charge.

One of my favorite trips to Bandera was in 2006, when I planned to give Cheryl a scrapbook for her birthday. I'd finished it a good three months before our trip and the suspense was killing us both. Cheryl had no idea what the gift was, but I assured her it was perfect for her. We got our luggage out of the car and carried them up three floors. We'd been given a condo with a different floor plan and it was murder when the time came to load, unload, and carry groceries up those stairs. Once the trunk was empty, we headed for Piggly Wiggly to buy everything that wasn't good for us. After the groceries were put away and coffee made, we pulled out our gifts sacks.

I opened my birthday present first and was surprised to find a scrapbook that I could put together for my grandchildren, a collection of embellishments, and several scrapbooking tools. Again, our thinking had been along the same lines. Cheryl knew I wanted to do a scrapbook of my grandchildren and she had included many of the things I'd need, such as Christmas and birthday decorations, even a little punch that makes tiny baby feet. She was equally shocked when she opened her scrapbook that had our friendship in pictures, journaling, poems, and tributes. She began to cry and called me a dirty name, but said it with affection. She spent so much time going through the book, taking note of every flower or bow, the M&M stickers, the slot machine, even an eyeball and a little sign that read "I spy with my little eye" on the page about her Sherlock Holmes episode. She told me no one had ever put that much time into something for her. I'm proud to be the one who had.

Our last trip to Bandera was in January of this year. Cheryl told me it's the first time she has seen me so totally relaxed. I wasn't up cleaning the kitchen or doing hair or worrying about anything. As a matter of fact, Cheryl broke down and washed her hair before I did. But, as is usually the case, I was the first to shave my legs. Cheryl just packs ribbons and bows for hers. And, we awoke one morning to realize we were in such a relaxed mode that we had left cheese, crackers, and lunch meat on the counter overnight.

For this trip, I packed a red velour jacket to wear over my pajamas for warmth. We love to play our games with the balcony door opened so we can hear the creek, but it does get cold in the condo. Cheryl was studying me and finally said, "I can tell we're nearing the end of our week together because I'm so sick of seeing you in that red thing!" That's my buddy.

Just as our trips begin with a squeal at the corner, the drive home has become pretty predicable too.

"I can't believe our week is over," Cheryl always says. "It went too fast. I'm not ready for it to end. I feel such a letdown."

"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened," I tell her.

"Oh, shut up," she snaps.

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.

Our Story - Part Six

Although there were many common things between us, Cheryl and I had our differences, too. We are of different religions and political parties. Religion and politics. Those are two subjects most people don't discuss for the sake of their relationship. Cheryl and I know our boundries and respect one another's opinion.

She believes Tony is in heaven. I believe Chezzy is in the grave waiting for the second coming. Cheryl believes our country will fare better under the leadership of a Democrat while I lean toward the more conservative side. Cheryl never had children and I have three. Cheryl was a flight attendant for American Airlines while I stayed home changing diapers. Later, Cheryl worked for the city of Duncanville and I began working with Chezzy in our business.

How are differences handled? As far as religion goes, I find Cheryl to be a very spiritual person. She claims that I put her focus back on God during her time of loss and anger. Prayer and spiritual support knows no denomination. I know Cheryl has a devotional every morning and that I'm in her prayers. She knows the same is true of me. We don't discuss religion, we discuss the love God bestows on us daily. We believe God did open a window when our husbands died and gave us this beautiful friendship. It's sharing this love together that keeps us centered on what is really important. Cheryl gives credit to God for every good thing that happens. And even though she insists that I turned her toward God again, I am in awe of her faith in areas where my own is lacking.

In the area of politics, Cheryl and I agree how we'd like to see our government run. We don't discuss the political parties themselves, but discuss the good and bad that is going on in the world today. We know the areas where we differ and there's no need to bring them up. No relationship shares the same opinion on every subject. Our challenge is to live together peacefully while respecting the opinions of those around us. Cheryl and I have never fought, have never said a rude thing to the other, and if we did it was in the spirit of joking. We can say anything to the other without any fear of it being taken the wrong way. We know each other too well.

As for never having children, Cheryl solved that problem in a hurry. She promptly adopted my children in her heart. How thrilled I was when both my daughters gave Cheryl an important role in their weddings. She, in turn, gave them the sixpence to wear in their shoes on their wedding day, just as she had done on October 4, 1974.

Allison asked Cheryl to be her wedding coordinator. Cheryl was honored. Five days before the wedding, Cheryl called me, her voice full of concern. "I just broke a toe," she lamented. "How will I manage getting the wedding party assembled to walk down the aisle? And what about rehearsal?"

As it turned out, Cheryl was there and successfully hobbled around and did her job to perfection. At the rehearsal, when she saw signs of Allison's nerves hitting a breaking point, she rallied everyone together and ordered them to perform their duties right so Allison could have a beautiful wedding. And, so it happened.

Later that month, I called Cheryl with unbelievable news: "I just broke my toe," I told her.

"Win the lottery," she said. "I'll be next."

When Angela's wedding arrived seven months later, Cheryl was touched when she was asked to
be an honorary mother. She was escorted to her seat, just as I was, and we both felt the joy of watching "our" daughter marry the man of her dreams. Her active participation in the lives of my children has meant so much to me. I honestly believe her joy would match that of Chezzy's.

I'll never forget the day Cheryl called to tell me that she'd heard noises in her chimney and had called someone to investigate. "You won't believe this," she said. "Four baby raccoons were in my chimney." A few months later, I called Cheryl and asked her to listen as I put the phone close to the ceiling in the playroom. "What does that sound like?" I asked her. "Raccoons," she told me. Sure enough, I had three baby raccoons pulled from my attic. Again, Cheryl said, "One of us needs to win the lottery. You know the other one will win, too."

The dating scene was a very odd time for Cheryl and me. After almost nineteen years of marriage, dating someone again, opening our hearts again, held a combination of excitement and insecurity. The Bible clearly states that when a spouse dies, the remaining partner is free to marry again. Why, when it's Biblical, is so much guilt involved? There's a feeling of betraying the memory of our husband, and a desperate need to fill a void. Studies have shown that the happiest of marriages find the widow or widower anxious to be back in that same, safe cocoon. Still, the guilt is present, and the awkwardness of dating as a middle-aged woman.

The most memorable of our dating experiences centered around the cell phone mounted in my white BMW. Cheryl and I would go to dinner, then grab the phone when we got back in my car. She'd call her answering machine at home to see if Sid had left a message. Then, it was my turn and I'd call my answering machine to see if Robin had left a message. We were giddy when we heard their voices. It was like opening a gift on Christmas morning. And, just as we had shared the pain of loss, we now shared the adjustment that being on the dating field presented. It was another necessary step in the healing process. We knew that getting on with our lives in no way diminished what we had shared before.

My first date with Robin was when I met up with him in Galveston for fun in the sun. Cheryl was returning that weekend from a cruise with Sid. I was supposed to pick her up at the airport. I asked her friend, Kate, to fill in for me since I'd be in Galveston. At this point, Cheryl had no knowledge of Robin. He was a supplier of mine and had asked me out while Cheryl was on the cruise. On my way home from Galveston, I called Cheryl to make sure she had been picked up and was at home, and to describe my wonderful weekend. She didn't give me the chance. The minute she heard my voice, she demanded, "Who the hell is Robin?"

That question showed how protective we'd become with each other. Both of us had become a lifeline to the other, and we constantly made sure there would always be a safe connection. I remember Cheryl's fear when she learned I was going to drive in an ice storm to my sister's house for Thanksgiving dinner. At the time the roads weren't that bad and I assured her I'd be fine. I skidded off the road and hit a guard rail. Cheryl was hysterical when she learned about it.

It might seem that Cheryl and I depend on each other like we depended on our husbands. Humans are very social creatures and we all depend on those in our lives to add to our happiness and well-being. Of course we'd be devastated if we didn't have this friendship, but we have proven that we have what it takes to go on. It's amazing the strength and adaptability one has when faced with changes that are beyond their control. Yes, we struggled through those times together, but the individual pain was our own, and we couldn't walk that road for the other.

"You don't make mistakes in my eyes," Cheryl told me once. "You merely have life experiences."

Those words still fill me with comfort. Cheryl was there to be my friend, never to judge me. She knew the emptiness - she was living it herself. She knew of the vast void that we often filled with the wrong things, temporary things, in our need to feel whole again. I don't want to think about how it would have been had I faced all the changes in my life without Cheryl by my side, knowing each step I took, she was on the same journey with me. We had gotten each other through a painful time in our lives and the experience had bonded us to a friendship that rarely exists in the world today. I trust Cheryl with my life and I know she has the same faith in me.

With healing comes the rebuilding of lives that had been in limbo as we let grief run its course. The time came when we both fell in love again and we were going in a new direction. Cheryl moved to Florida to marry Sid, but the distance between us can only be counted in miles.

Humiliating Your Husband And . . .

. . . causing him public embarrassment.

By guest blogger: Dee

My husband is a great sport. He's also very gullible. This great combination makes for a wonderful target. I set out about 3 months ago to perform the ultimate in public humiliation on my husband and this is how I did it:

- First off I got to know my husband’s routine, specifically that he plays poker every Friday at lunch with a group of friends at his place of employment.

- Second, I began to plot a way I can infiltrate this testosterone circus and reduce my husband to a puddle of estrogen.

- I came up with a plan that cost me a mere $2.00 involving his cell phone.
I did a dry run with my own cell phone.

- On Thursday evening I stole his cell phone and implemented my plan, it went flawlessly.

- The following day at 11:30am my husband congregated with the men at his place of employment – leave your purse at the door. They began to deal the cards and playing a round of "Texas Hold’um"

- At precisely 11:40 am I phoned my husband.

- At precisely 11:40 am my husband was inspecting his cards for a winning hand when he heard "It’s Raining Men" blaring in the room:

It's Raining Men! Hallelujah!

- It's Raining Men! Amen!

I'm gonna go out to run and let myself get

Absolutely soaking wet!

It's Raining Men! Hallelujah!

It's Raining Men! Every Specimen!

Tall, blonde, dark and lean

Rough and tough and strong and mean

Everyone looked around the room to see where the commotion was coming from. My husband and the person seated next to him looked at each other’s phone belt clip. My husband asked, "why is your phone playing that gay song?" His neighbor then replied "that is your phone playing that gay song!"

When my husband finally answered his phone all I heard where wails of laughter. My husband simply asked "did you need anything, or did you get what you wanted?"

"No, that is all I needed" CLICK

There are a few things that you need to keep in mind when making this successful:

- Order the song from the target’s phone. If you order it on-line a text-message is sent to the target’s phone asking for confirmation.

- Make sure the volume is up high

- Don’t change the ring tone for all calls, just ones made from your number. That way I could control when the ring would be heard for the first time. Unfortunately it was also the last time. He had the ring tone changed by the time he got home.

- My husband (target) was the butt of all jokes for the longest time and I was the subject of worship among his friends. Even though this prank happened about 2 months ago, I just got this photo from one of his co-workers, a doctored photo with my husbands cute little face enjoying the "rain".

Thank you, Dee, for the laugh!

Special Delivery - Love

One of the many blessings of having grandchildren is the adorable little notes that come in the mail.

Ashton wrote his own thank you notes this year for his birthday gifts. How thrilling it was to open it and find his words in his writing! He sent one to my mother and she, too, said it was a keeper. It was so sweet and meant so much to me.

We received another note in the mail this week from Jude. He'd called me to tell me the mailman would be bringing me a letter. He was really pumped about it. When we received it, we called and told him and he really got excited and wanted to know what the letter said. We told him it said I love you (actually, as you can tell, it's I then U, then a heart). He asked me to keep it to remember him by.

Thank you, sweet boys! I will definitely keep these notes because they are so sweet. But I assure you, I need nothing to remember you by. You are in my hearts all the time. I love you, guys!

Happy Birthday, Donna!

A heartfelt Happy Birthday to my beautiful sister. What a joy it's been having her in my life. She has a lovely alto voice and we used to harmonize while doing dishes together. It made the chore so much easier. We swapped clothes, shared thoughts, laughed and cried together.

My Sissy is such a good person! I admire her strength, for she has gone through some bad times and survived. I admire her work ethics - she's always been a valuable employee, and now a wonderful asset in the business she owns with her husband and a partner. She's a spiritual person with so much goodness in her heart. And where she has really touched my own heart is by the way she has worn her title of "Aunt" so perfectly. What a positive influence she has been in the lives of my children and they adore her.

Isn't this picture of her so beautiful? She's always had this gorgeous smile and laughter that I have envied, but I still love her very much. Happy birthday, Sissy! May all your dreams come true!

My Little Sister, Donna

I really don't remember

When she arrived upon the scene.

And I was much too young to know

What her presence there would mean.

But at some point I noticed her

And we've bonded through the years.

Through childhood and adulthood,

Sharing all our hopes and fears.

My little sister, Donna,

Has made my world a better place.

Inside, she's just as beaitiful

As her outward style and grace.

From little girls to women,

How we've grown along the way.

From dolls to very grown-up cares,

She's in my heart all through the day.

My precious little sister,

My friend above all others.

Imagine having lived our lives

With only our three brothers!

In the role of the Big Sister

She has often played the part,

Giving love and understanding

When I had a heavy heart.

We've been there for each other

And I know we'll always be.

My little sister, Donna,

Oh, how dear she is to me!

Our Story - Part Five

The Void

There is a void that's deep and vast
Where temporary joys are cast.
My lame attempt to fill the space
That was once your own special place.

There is a love you helped to grow,
Still in the void, nowhere to go.
It can't be shared or returned,
Or disregarded or even spurned.

It hovers there, a lingering ache,
Needing you, but it's too late.
This cold and lonely empty pit,
Will it ever fill, a perfect fit?

Life is never as it seems,
There are no more hopes and dreams.
What's good today, it soon will pass,
For nothing really good will last.

There is a void, I feel it still!
Without you I know I always will.
I try so hard to fill that spot,
My pain reminds me that it's not.

Within that void where my love stays,
Remembering the joys of yesterdays;
I hold you close within my heart,
Where my love lives, we're not apart.

In loving memory of Chezzy and Tony.

All who had attended the grief seminar were invited back in the fall for a one-night meeting on how to handle the holidays. Cheryl and I were there. Like everyone else, we had wondered how we'd get through those first holidays without the one who had been such a big part of them.

Tony and Chezzy really got into Christmas. Cheryl and Tony had a tradition of sitting in the floor around the tree on Christmas morning and taking their time with the gifts. As each one was opened, a story was told about why that particular gift, the shopping spree, and all the excitement that surrounded the giving of that gift. Chezzy usually brought his gifts in on Christmas Eve, each uniquely wrapped, and so many of them that I was opening gifts long after everyone else had finished. It was not the absence of gifts that concerned us, but the love and attention of the one who had shopped for them. That Tony and Chezzy were missing an important family celebration tore into us, too.

Weeks before Chezzy died I happened to think of his Christmas stocking with "Dad" on the cuff. I burst into tears over a simple stocking. It would not be hanging on the fireplace with the others and that thought was more than I could bear.

Another concern we had was Christmas cards. How were we going to send out holiday greetings without putting our husbands' names on them? That very subject was brought up in the seminar. Our counselor said that if the thought of omitting a name hurt too much, don't send cards this year. How simple! We hadn't thought of that and it relieved one burden for us. No Christmas cards from us that year.

Cheryl and I had other ways of helping each other with the "firsts". Angela and her Daddy would shop for our Christmas tree every year, and decorate it while I busied myself with Christmas shopping. Cheryl came over on that first Christmas and helped Angela and I trim the tree. And, on Cheryl's first wedding anniversary without Tony, I sent her three roses to her work. She'd told me how he sent a rose for every year until it got so expensive, and then he would send three every year. I enclosed a card with the flowers that read, "I know Tony would want you to have these."

I've mentioned how pampered Cheryl and I were. Although it makes for a wonderful life and marriage, there are negative consequences. Being carried around on a rose petal does not prepare one for the solitary life of a widow. Tony had always enjoyed paying the bills, had his own organized system, and Cheryl never had to worry about it. Now, she did. Chezzy had always filled my car, taken care of simple things out of love, and was the backbone of our business. Cheryl and I now had all the responsibilities that we once shared with our partner. The adjustments were both agonizing and rewarding.

I picked up the phone one day and heard Cheryl's excited squeal. "Peggy, listen to this! I bought a new vacuum cleaner today and I assembled it all by myself!"

One might think it silly to sit on the phone and listen to the roar of a vacuum cleaner. I didn't think it was silly. The sound I heard meant that Cheryl was taking steps to build her new life. It meant that she had accomplished a job that Tony would have done had he been there. It was progress that I heard, not a vacuum cleaner.

Some time later, I called her and told her I'd ordered Caller ID and connected it to my phone all by myself. Cheryl ordered one, too, and called me with the same announcement. It was during this time that I began to give myself a weekly challenge. It usually involved going to dinner by myself, or any other activity that made me uncomfortable. I felt awkward going to a nice restaurant and asking for a table for one. It's such a simple thing, but it was a challenge I needed to meet. In time, I was able to boldly ask for a table for one.

Cheryl introduced me to Yahtzee and it quickly became our favorite game. We'd sit at her table and play for hours. We still do when we take our annual vacation together. In those early years, we'd play our game and it was often interrupted with conversation and we'd forget whose turn it was. It was often interrupted by tears, too, and we'd sit there and revisit the beautiful life we once had.

Here's a sample of some of the conversations we'd have:

"When I was growing up in Michigan, I had this dog named Kookie . . ."

"Kookie?" I'd ask with a shocked voice. "I had a calico cat named Kookie!"

Another time I told her I had asked my parents for a sewing machine as a graduation present. Cheryl's mouth dropped as she told me she had also received a sewing machine for graduation. It was mentioned because we thought it an odd request for a gift, but we'd asked for the same thing.

"Chezzy loved to read," I told Cheryl. "He read mostly biographies or history related books."

"Tony did, too. He was especially a World War II buff and had a collection of books on it."

"Chezzy had a biography on Hitler, and other books about the war." We just stared at each other, shaking our heads.

"I used to be a bedwetter," I confided.

"I was, too," Cheryl said.

"I stopped at age seven. How old were you?"

By the look on Cheryl's face, I knew the answer before it left her lips. "Seven."

"Why are we still surprised?" I asked her.

The depressing task of sorting through medical bills and insurance policies, probating a will, and sending death certificates to everyone who required it, was another chore Cheryl and I shared. And sharing it made it so much easier. Cheryl had one insurance company refusing to pay Tony's medical bills. Because of his disability, he was also covered by Medicare. As often happens when two insurance companies are involved, one wants to put the burden of paying on the other one. When it didn't happen, the hospital was demanding payment from Cheryl.

"Don't pay them," I told her firmly. "You have paid every premium and that insurance company has to cover the medical bills."

To our relief, the problem was finally solved to Cheryl's satisfaction and she was relieved of the debt. Discussing these issues with someone going through the same thing is very comforting.

Thankfully, the time came when the phone calls in the middle of the night were less frequent, and we could be heard laughing instead of crying. Healing was taking place. There were still bad days ahead, but we were making progress. We started spending so much time together doing fun stuff like shopping, eating out, and having sleepovers with many games of Yahtzee.

A really delightful evening was one we spent being frivolous. We had pictures made at Glamour Shots. They did our hair and really caked on the makeup and we looked flawless through the filtered lens. We really strutted our stuff in feathered boas and jewels. Afterwards, we went to dinner at Spaghetti Warehouse. While waiting for a table, we were able to examine ourselves in the big mirror mounted near the entrance. This might be the first time that real laughter erupted from us. I don't know if the lighting in the restaurant was different or what, but Cheryl and I looked like we'd just gotten off work. And not very reputable work, at that.

And, although we felt as if we had discovered every similarity between us, we soon found out that if something happened to one of us, it would happen to the other one. This wonderful, comfortable, solid friendship, at times, looked like one big joke.

Our Story - Part Four

Writing is my therapy. When I'm down I become reflective. Putting my feelings on paper, usually in poem form, is a sweet release for me. My tears are never close to the surface and I hold things inside. Writing seems to open me up. During this time, I compiled them all into notebooks, and gave to family members. I remember a comment my son, Ron, made after receiving his collection of poems.

"Mom, some of these sound like they were written by a manic depressant," he told me.

"I think some of them were," I admitted.

The poems that dealt with grief were shared with Cheryl. I knew she could identify with the feelings recorded there. And it was comforting to know that not only had the writing helped me, the reading of it would help Cheryl.

Give Me Time

Please give me time to mend and heal,
The pain I've known is deep and real.
I know my progress might seem slow,
But it takes time to heal and grow.

My loss has been too great to bear,
I need your patience, love, and care.
I know a smile will soon replace
The frown that's now upon my face.

There's beauty in my falling tears,
They'll make me stronger through the years.
I have to grieve and wonder why,
Please be patient while I cry.

There was a man I cherished so,
It hurts so much to let him go!
A part of me has surely died,
And now is buried by his side.

Give me the time to sort it out,
I struggle still with fear and doubt.
Remember time will soon erase
The pain that's etched upon my face.

I know how anxious you must be
To see me where I used to be.
I also want this hurt to end,
Give me the time it takes to mend.

I know someday I will awake
And eagerly the day I'll take,
But until then, please let me feel
The pain that only time can heal.


I wrote the following poem especially for Cheryl and me. It's a poem of hope, of progress, of fear, and a goal to reach.

On Eagle's Wings

Someday I'll soar on Eagle's wings,
Aiming for a distant cloud.
I'll be strong and self-assured,
Free of my cloying shroud.

I've already begun to practice,
My feet barely leave the ground.
Still I forge ahead in faith,
For I am upward bound!

These present fears and worries
Will be buried in the past.
I'll be filled with hope and courage,
This weakness will not last!

So carefully I spread my wings
And consider that first leap.
The valley below is frightening,
My resolve begins to seep.

My hold on life's been tenuous,
It's a worn and fraying thread.
How I must regain my confidence
If my wings I dare to spread.

Slowly I gather up my wings
And try them on for size.
I fear they're much too heavy
To keep me in the skies.

I discover all that bulky weight
Is loneliness, fear and doubt.
My load will be much lighter
When I throw these burdens out.

Soon my tears will be no more,
I'll be strong instead of weak.
For I will soar on eagle's wings
Up to the highest peak.

Today my step is slow and small,
But oh the confidence it brings.
Look up! For I've decided
I'm about to spread my wings!

Our Story - Part Three

The grief recovery seminar, which was held in a Catholic Church in Duncanville, ended and each of us left with the tools we'd learned about grief and the healing process. Cheryl and I were the luckier ones. We left with a friendship that was instant, yet neither of us knowing just how concrete and lasting it would become. The similarities broke the ice between us, but our mutual respect and, yes, our strong need, began to further cement a friendship from heaven.

Cheryl and I had plenty of support through our network of friends and family. We had so many loved ones looking out for us. They were ready to listen and offer words of comfort. There was still that urgent need to share with someone who was traveling the same road.

The dictionary's definition of a widow is too brief. A widow is a woman who has lost the other half of self. If she and her husband were one, she now feels like a freak sometimes. Where she once fit in as a couple, she is now on the outside and wondering where she belongs. Every aspect of her life has changed. Responsibilities are no longer shared. Burdens are now carried on one set of shoulders. She's surrounded by emptiness and feeling all alone. Even the intimacy of lovemaking, ordained by God within a marriage, is not only absent but now a sin. Cheryl was facing all these obstacles, too. I'd start to share something with her and she was right on it, telling me she was feeling the same way. We needed that type of understanding.

The following weeks and months found us on the phone in times of crisis, or sitting around Cheryl's kitchen table with our hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. It was not unusual for one of our phones to ring in the middle of the night and hear crying on the other end. We told our stories to each other so many times that we had them memorized. We could finish each other's story, but we didn't. We had learned that it should be told whenever the need arose.

"I'm back at square one," Cheryl said through her tears. "I've made no progress at all."

"Yes, you have," I reassured. "You're just having a bad day and those are to be expected."

A day or two later I'd call Cheryl with the same announcement, that the pain was as great as it had been on that first awful day, and she would remind me that it was a moment that would pass. "Give in to it," she'd tell me. "You'll feel better." We always did feel better.

I remember calling Cheryl one day and she was crying when she answered the phone. She told me she had finally felt like cleaning house and was dusting a music box. I could hear the faint sounds of Edelweiss, which she told me was Tony's favorite song. Again, I gasped as I told her it was Chezzy's favorite too. Three years later, the day before Cheryl left for Florida to begin a new life, we sat in the middle of my king-size bed and shared Christmas. She presented me with a gift I will always cherish: a music box playing Edelweiss. We let the lovely melody fill the room as we both sat quietly with our own private thoughts and tears.

Then, there was the time Cheryl called me and found me crying. "I'm making spaghetti," I explained. "I went to the pantry to get the pasta and found a package of Kluski. I'd bought it to make for Chezzy. I never made it for him, Cheryl!" I sobbed.

"Oh, Peggy, you will never believe what I'm holding in my hand right now. Kluski!" We were shocked.

Our first big outing together was to Dallas to see the musical "My Fair Lady" with Richard Chamberlain. That night she met my Dad who was in town to do electrical wiring on the building my business would occupy. She also met my children who have grown to love her dearly. They see the friend she has been to their mother and count her a blessing.

A blessing she is. Even more today than she was 14 years ago. We've shared so much together and we've helped each other heal. How God must have known we needed a friendship such as this one. I often laugh and ask Cheryl, "Who would have thought that a Seventh-Day Adventist from Grand Prairie and a Lutheran from De Soto would meet at a Catholic Church in Duncanville?"

Cheryl has always described our friendship the best: "When a door closed, God opened a window."

How true that would continue to be as Cheryl and I faced the years ahead.