A year ago today my sweet friend Beth skipped into the arms of her Savior. She lost a battle with ovarian cancer. She had fought bravely. Together we had laughed about, cried about, raged at, and talked about her situation. By the time she slipped away, we’d accepted the inevitable.
I miss her terribly. Even now, a year later, I sometimes think, “I’ve got to call Beth and tell her.” Sometimes the grief is still physically painful.
Beth was a part of my everyday life for years. We bonded quickly, which wasn’t unusual for Beth. She made friends quickly and easily. She taught me a lot about myself. She loved me as I was, but didn’t hesitate to let me know when there was an area of my life I needed to work on.
I know I’ll see her again one day. She was a sister in Christ. Still, I miss her laugh, her smile, her hugs, her wisdom, and her sense of whimsy. The reason I say that she skipped into the arms of her Savior is that she was the only adult I’ve ever known who liked to skip.
Today I’m remembering our friendship. I’m also remembering the others who loved her—her parents, her sister, her brother, her other family, her other friends. Though it ended much too soon, I’ll always be grateful for the time that God was gracious enough to allow me to spend with Beth.